


Careless

by Nael06



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Antonio Just Wants to Play Football, Football Competition, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Italian Mafia, M/M, Minor Bad Touch Trio (Hetalia), Minor Character Death, Minor Nordic Family, Police Procedural, Roman Empire is Grandpa, Romano Needs Holidays, Romano has PTSD, Substance Abuse, Team Bonding, Underage Substance Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15198851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nael06/pseuds/Nael06
Summary: This year, Antonio had a few priorities: keeping his grades up, finding a girlfriend to present to his parents and winning the regional Football competition to secure College with his two best friends!But that was before the Vargas moved in with all their drama including family secrets, police investigations, and unlikely football talents.Romano has much lower ambitions. If you ask him, not getting killed, shot or kidnapped would be a clear-cut ecstatic success compared to last year.He is just what Antonio needs, or not.





	1. First Impressions

Antonio ran to the entrance of the large apartment jumping down the stairs two by two. He passed next to Julia.

"Good morning beautiful!" he shouted petting the tomato plant.

She needed water, he thought sitting on the last stair putting a shoe on.

He was so damn late. His stupid phone, out of battery, had not rang to wake him up. He ran to the kitchen, no time for breakfast, he saw his jacket hanging. No need for it, he looked out of the window to the clear sky, tripping on his bag. He needed that though. He threw his new school bag on his shoulder, grabbing the keys on the counter. Realising he did not have any money for the bus, he grabbed the letter full of cash his father left. No time to pick out how much he actually needed, he’ll deal with it later.

Dios mio, Antonio hated morning at least as much as useless referees on a football pitch.

He walked out the door at forty, passing right next to Julia again. She looked at him, and Antonio hesitated for a second. Guilt was spreading much faster than the counting seconds before the bus arrived.

Fuck it.

He needed to leave now, but Julia was going to be thirsty all day. And, thinking about it all day was going to be a torture. He closed the door, stepping back into the corridor. Better to lose ten minutes than a day spent worrying about it, right?

He ran back out 5min later. Determinally late.

But he could still make it.

Maybe.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Still not here," sighted Francis twisting one shiny blond curl around his finger. "What time is it?"

Gilbert got his phone out. _New season, new game, new life. Let's make it perfect! Right?_ that was the last message Antonio send before going to sleep. Gilbert glared at it once more. "Eight fucking fifty three, we're going to be late on first day,” said Gilbert with a smirk drawing on his face. "Exactly like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, and the-"

"I think we got it, wanker. You're a bunch of brainless teenagers,” growled the British student leaning on the wall of the school. "Should we go?"

"What? And arrive on time?" said Gilbert startled and maybe a bit offended. “Please, nothing interesting ever happens in the first hour anyway.”

Arthur didn't look convince.

"Please don't frown,” chided Francis next to him. "It makes your eyebrows even scarier."

Gilbert laughed loudly from behind.

“Okay. That's it. I'm going," announced Arthur throwing his cigarette on the ground. He got of the brick wall they were leaning on, and left the duet, securing his messenger bag around his shoulder.

"No, Arthur!" cried Francis after him. "Come back!" he begged but Arthur only gave him the finger.

"You're never going to get him if you keep on insulting him,” murmured Gilbert playing on his phone, feet dangling from the wall.

"Sorry? Did I hear something, like an advise about love from someone who can't even talk to his crush?"

"Shut up?" shot back Gilbert, adding a few seconds later a weak; "At least we're not insulting each other."

"That's for sure. You guys aren't even talking," smiled Francis looking in the mirror again, rearranging his hair. "Maybe this year?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Maybe…"

"Really, Cheri, you need to get over the Canary Incident."

Gilbert kept his eyes on the floor pushing a little rock around. "Yeah…"

 

Minutes passed in silence while Francis was focused on texting some other girl.

 

"Amigos!" shouted a voice so far away, and yet coming closer way too fast.

"I think he's here." Smiled Francis before being tackled into a hug.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Late," said the teacher unimpressed. "Like every year."

Gilbert nodded enthusiastically at that, happy someone else recognised his hard work. "I live for consistency,” he declared.

“Theatricality,” added Francis.

Antonio elbowed him. "We're really sorry.”

"What do you have to say for yourself?" glared Miss Rosario.

"Football?" smiled the three of them.

Antonio never disrespected teachers, but being a bit late was harmless. Plus he did not even do it on purpose!

The classroom giggled, well, outside from the no-fun front row. Everybody knew they were part of the soccer team and they were always getting away with everything because of training or the golden rule that matches do not stop at end of the allowed time but at the end of an action when the referee blows the final whistle. School bell was nothing to them.  
The teacher dismissed the little trio with a wave of hand and that frown adult do when they give in to future generation on a point. ‘Whatever, we don’t have time for this,’ kind of way, ‘they've won a battle but not the war.’

Antonio followed his friends to the back of the classroom, Francis jumping on the chair behind Arthur. But there were no more empty chairs around them. One of the problem to be late, and Antonio would know about it. At least he watered Julie. He smiled at himself as he bumped into something.

"Watch where you're going Bastard!" hissed someone, grabbing a bag Antonio apparently stepped on.

Antonio looked down at the boy. He was new.

He was definitely new otherwise Antonio would have definitely noticed him before. He had such a cute pointy nose, and large honey eyes, if only his hair did not hide them so much. Though, his hair seemed so soft-

"Mr Carriedo?" called the teacher breaking the daydream. “Can you please find a sit?”

Unable to answer he just sat down on the nearest chair, just behind the boy. Another problem for being late was missing out on the names of all the new hot students.

When he turned around to glanced at Gilbert and Francis, he was going to gesture the new student but they were already on it. Francis was transfixed while Gilbert was simply glaring. Antonio looked around him seeing for the first time that havoc had spread around the classroom, as the teacher started mapping out the course on the blackboard.

"He was at the game last Tuesday,” whispered furiously Gilbert. “He plays left wing attacker… Best dribbler on the pitch, the little shit. Don't you remember? What the Hell is he doing here?"

“Last week? I was grounded,” Antonio remembered as well as the broken door he punched through. Antonio shrugged, grounded from the weekly football game on the Church owned pitch, never was a big issue. It was a habit by now.

"Maybe he plays at another school in the area. Maybe he's here to spy on us…" said Arthur loudly enough to be heard by at least half the classroom. “There's another one too…”

Looking at the other side of the classroom, the Scottish student, Arthur’s cousin, had pass his arm above another new student. Jack was looming above him with a smirk. That one next to him looked exactly like the one in front of Antonio. For a moment Antonio thought he saw double. Though his hair might have been clearer. Nothing for sure, he might have been to close to the window.

"His brother…" whispered the albino with maybe less hatred. “He played too… he's okay.”

His brother was smiling and laughing at Jack like they were the new best friends. It did not seem to calm the cute one in front of Antonio. That one started stirring, tapping his foot on the floor. Antonio could have swear seeing smoke coming off the student. He was glaring at Jack.  
The teacher finally started on the lesson. Antonio smiled at her and nodded along thinking about how he has to talk to them, how exciting would it be to add them to the team. Did they plan to take part on the football team?

Soon enough the class ended, before Antonio could not do anything, the boy stood up and strolled down the aisle. He started cursing loudly in Italian, and enough in english to make it clear that Jack’d better 'keep his dirty hands away from my brother or he will regret it.' The whole classroom was staring openly and the teacher rolled her eyes as his brother pushed him out the room apologising. Miss Rosario glanced at Antonio, clearly asking the acting captain of the team to take care of it. Funny how your status can change so easily when adults need your help.

"Well," sighted Francis, playing with his hair as he made his way to his friends. “What a good start.”

“We’ll talk to them later,” Antonio grinned, he wasn't leaving the school's premise today without getting at least the cute one’s name.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Have you seen what they’ve done!” sheirked Gilbert, throwing a piece of paper on the table.

Everybody leaned in. Down the page two names were added in hurry, Ludwig frowned trying to decifer the small letters smashed together.

“The new kids signed up for the team!” scoffed Gilbert. “Unbelievable.”

“It's okay," said Ludwig, going back to cutting into his boiled potato. "They'll replace Franky and Andrew. Coach will obviously want to hold selections."

“It’s okay?" echoed furiously Arthur banging his plate against the table sitting down. “Are you bloody serious? It's a dead Queen's plan. We have the championship to win! We don’t have time to train them!”

"That's exactly why we need selections,” said Ludwig. “We need the best team possible. We all need to win."

"Matthew's already in the team," corrected Gilbert. "We were eleven. Technically we don't need other players. We don't need substitutes, or even selections for that matter."

"Matthew?" asked genuinely the British student. “Never seen him."

"That's because your eyebrows are so fat, they make you bloody blind,” taunted Gilbert, stabbing his potato.

"I never saw him either, to be honest,” added Li leaning in. He was ears-dropping into their conversation while sitting on a table behind them.

"Oh, shut up and eat your Chinese noodle,” growled Gilbert.

"It's a Ramen and I'm from Hong-Kong, you stupid _german_ boy,” answered back Li, not that offended. It has been already six years of fighting the same war with Gilbert. Nothing could really hurt, they were all bulletproof to the weapons they handled.

“What did you say?!?!” Shouted Gilbert ready to jump on Li. “I’m from Prussia!” he cried.

"Brother," called back Ludwig. "It's getting above the point. If they are good players, they're in. I'll talk to Roderick about it, so he can work on strategy with the new assets."

"Oh! I've not seen the princess yet," drawled Gilbert, his attention coming back at the mention of the Austrian student. “How is he?”

Ludwig just rolled his eyes silently, when a plate broke on the floor, the world’s centre shifted from the cool kids table to the salad buffet of the cafeteria.

"Mr Vargas!"

 

 

* * *

 

 

_5 minutes before_

 

Antonio was running late again. He was the only one from the football team with Roderick to take music as a module. The Austrian student was the strategist of the football team or at least he was trying.

They used to be friend, before the Canary Incident and every time he talked to him, Antonio would leave with the feeling of missing out on friendship, on jokes and memories.  
How can you miss memories you don't even have? Antonio frowned that was way to deep for lunch break.

He ran to the cafeteria. There was a long cue and it was not moving, probably someone chatting with Lucy, the cook.  
He glanced at the usual football team table, it was so easy to find them. They used the same table for years now. Gilbert and Francis were per usual there, Ludwig glaring at Li who sat between the cool parkourt kids and the nerds. Li was a performer in all areas. Grades, football, social life…

Antonio sighted, it was good to be back, but matches and grades would come up soon. That was a lot of stress on the way. Even more now they got to perform for the championship. It was not much but for the school and the future application it meant the world to Antonio right now. He walked toward the salad buffet. Some cumber and then some tomatoes. A lot of tomatoes.

"At least they have tomatoes," grumbled a student coming closer. It was the Italian, from the lesson earlier!

"Hi!" Antonio said smiling all teeth out trying to sound cool and to make a good first impression. He wanted to talk to him since the first lesson. If he was going to be their best dribbler on advanced wing, they could at least be friend as they will have to interact continuously on the pitch. "I'm so existed to see you play! My friends said you are really good!"

"Listen, I just want tomatoes,” explained the student his hand flying around, pointing the salad buffet and toward Antonio. His gestures were so adorable.

"You like tomatoes?" asked enthusiastically Antonio.

He glared at him. "Like any decent human being," hissed the teenager.

"I'm Antonio, by the way.” The student just nodded not looking up, he got some tomatoes. A lot. It was a good sign. "Antonio Carriedo and you?"

"Lovino Vargas," said the student. God, was he blushing? Antonio leaned closer, how can he be so cute.

"Are you coming to the selection?! I’m sure you'll pass!" laughed Antonio. "That's so great you guys are here, because we needed better players this year! Not that's we aren’t good-"

Lovino was failing to open the oil bottle.

"Like this, let me," he said putting his hand above Lovino’s. He snapped, steeped back like burned. The bottle crashed to the floor.

"Leave me alone!" shouted the teenager breaking into rage. He stopped mid sentence looking around. He looked like he might faint. Antonio got closer trying to grab his elbow. Lovino walked back once more, bumping into his tray. It fell to the floor, glass and food spreading in a sound wave.

"Mr Vargas!" called the supervisor of the canteen with condescendence. "I'll get the cleaner."

Lovino was already on the floor. While swearing in italian, he tried to amass the broken glass on the tray.

"Let me help," said Antonio crunching down too.

Lovino pushed him away, with more forced Antonio believed he had. He fell to the floor bewildered.

"Don't bother lying. I know you what you want, so go the fuck away," said the Italian furious, hands shaking. "Don't make the both of us lose our time, I'll play in your fucking team!" He shouted throwing a handful of tomato at him.

Antonio did not know what to say. He could feel the tomato jus soaking his shirt. He was not hurt, a bit embarrassed maybe but the Spanish student could feel the fear in the other. He sounded furious and terrified. He was panicking.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry if-" Students came closer. Antonio could not detached his eyes from Lovino.

"What's your fucking problem?" asked Gilbert, pushing Lovino unto the floor with a kick. “Messing with our vice captain already?”

Lovino stood up and pushed back Gilbert. Ludwig grabbed Gilbert before anything else could happen.

Antonio could not move. Jack took the matter in hand, walked in and punched Lovino in the face. Thrown backward by sudden hit, the Italian stumbled back. People started cheering. Antonio got up grabbing Jack's arms but it was too late. Damage was already done.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it, if you have any feedback don't hesitate to comment!!!


	2. The Tomato Incident

_10 minutes before:_

 

"I hate this school," declared Lovino to his brother in Italian. "I'm used to be surrounded by idiots, but here you don't even know which one is going to fuck up." He ended up shouting at a student who was looking at them.

Feliciano glared, just a second before going back to his usual closed eyes smile, like some happy idiot.

"I mean before, it was easy," continued lowly Lovino. "You just had to look out for Frederico and Carolina-“ He stopped in mid-sentence, glancing at his brother. Feliciano did not react. They didn’t really talk about before yet. Surely the cafeteria on their first day was not the best setting for that kind of discussion.

Lovino did not say anything more. His brother leaned in, talking to the lady serving the main meal, Lucy, likes cat and owns three, apparently all throwing up hairballs but Lovino was going to save you from anymore details. So while Feliciano getting useless informations, Lovino faced his choices: Potatoes, cauliflower, fish or sausages.

Disgusting.

He turned around not able to confront it anymore. Fuck me, he murmured eyes laying on the passing students.

Lovino froze. The spanish guy from History class was there, looking good and around, surely for his friends. He did not even have to talk to him to know he was the playboy of the school; Muscular and his incredible green eyes. He reminded him of Frederico, too damn perfect to be useful. He was probably going for the usual football team’s table, it was not hard to find. In the centre of the room, the people on it were loud and laughing. The rest of the room glancing shyly at them with hope or envy.

"What do you want?" asked the lady a spoon at hand. She must have been asking for a bit as she was clearly pissed. Or maby she was naturally like that. Too bad, it was not Lovino's days neither.

"You really think I'm going to eat that?" growled the italian, moving his tray away. “Your cats might have threw up those hairballs on it.”

Feliciano looked at him like he just turned off the television on a Juventus game. Too worried to be angry.

"Not hungry," muttered Lovino as an excuse.

"We both know, it's a lie," answered Feliciano looking at the yogurts.

"Che?"

"Nothing, Fratello," smiled Feliciano turning to his brother.

Lovino rolled his eyes at his brother’s fake innocent. "It doesn't work on me, idiota."

"They have a salad buffet," said Feliciano changing subject.

Lovino's eyes sparkled.

"Go, I'll find somewhere to sit."

Lovino's demeanour changed in a blink. "It's fine, I'll come to sit with you, I don't-"

"It's okay Romano," said the younger making eyes contact, trying to be sincere. Bullshit, thought Lovino but Feli insisted. "I'm going to be fine. We're at school. Nothing can happen!"

"Bene," said Lovino darkly. “Don’t talk to anyone.”

"Cool, I'll go be sad and lonely in the cafeteria's corner," He said and shrugged leaving his grumpy brother.

Lovino glared at him, checking no one approached his brother with deviant intention, or any intention actually. He glanced at the usual football team table, Feliciano sat down few tables away from them. Not too close of the emo kids but far enough not to be noticed by the football table.  
There was only a Japanese boy at the end of the table. He was safe. Japanese never did anything? Outside from Pearl Harbour, Kamikaze, Yakuza, Godzilla-  
Okay… Let's stop here. They were at school. Nothing can happen.

Lovino glanced back to the salad buffet like a safe line.

"At least they have tomatoes," he murmured.

"Hi!" called out someone. Lovino looked up and meet the all-white perfect smile of the spanish guy. And Lovino stood still. He could feel his brooding dilute, like ink into water.  
It must be the smile. No one smiled like that around him since- God, he was not even able to think about saying it. He was so pathetic.  
Feliciano was doing so much better. Not that Lovino will ever recognise the positive effects about seeing a psychologist.

"I'm so existed to see you play!" the guy continued with this stupid smile. Lovino’s heart skipped a beat from the attention, he could feel his cheeks burning left powerlessly wondering when someone would notice. "My friends said you’re really good!"

Ok, frowned Lovino, so he was stalking him, talking to his friend about him. Does he even know his name?

"Listen, I just want tomatoes,” said Lovino, in a way, he believed that was menacing. As hot as the Spanish guy could be, he was still between him and his tomatoes.

"You like tomatoes?" he asked with enthusiasm.

"Like any decent human being," growled Lovino. And that was suspicious, it was way to much happiness for tomatoes. Even from Lovino’s point of view.  
Was he bullshitting him? That would not be surprising.

"I'm Antonio, by the way," said the guy.

Lovino nodded bitterness spreading in his mouth. Was he really playing me? He wondered.

Hope was the worst. He seemed so nice. Full of fake dreams and ugly lies.

"Antonio Carriedo and you?" he repeated.

"Lovino Vargas," he answered, not able to look up at his lying face. Happy and nice people never talk to him anyway. He could smell nice wood and summer spice, Lovino glanced up at the other. Did he just got closer?

"Are you going to the selection! I’m sure you'll pass!" laughed Antonio. "That's so great, because he needed better players to win! Not that we aren’t any good-"

Lovino focused on the bottle of oil trying to block his anger out. The plastic kept slipping off his hand. The idiot really believed he was good at trying to manipulate Lovino? He knew people better at getting them to play in their team than him. Everything was so repetitive.  
Why can't he just make friends like Feliciano and not people just interest in his football skills to add to the team if it's not something else. Why can't he be friendly and cool?  
He could not focus on the bottle. Everything was turning annoying, well, if it was a colour.

"Wait. Like this," Antonio said. "Let me do it."

He move his hand above Lovino's blocking his fingers. Lovino trying to move out and he could not. His fingers were stuck against oil bottle and Antonio’s hand and skin. The spanish student pressed down hard enough to hurt.  
And everything was swinging back.  
Someone was holding him still. Lovino could not breath.

The bottle felt. But he still could not feel his fingers, pain was numbing them. He hold them close, trying to know what was real, but his mind did not believe it, still stuck in that memory.

It was all Antonio’s fault.

"Leave me alone!" shouted Lovino, stepping back. The tray fell. Noise resonated around, eyes turned to them. Lovino felt dizzy, like there was no place to breath.

"Mr Vargas?" Someone called out, the voice could only be from an adult looking at the incident. "I'll get the cleaner."

Fuck me, thought Lovino for at least the tenth time today, and swearing colourfully at everything. This school was terrible. He just wanted to go back home.

"Let me help," said Antonio crunching down too.

Can't he just stop it?! Stay away!? And in a shot of rage Lovino pushed him to the floor. Antonio fell down bewildered. Well, Lovino had enough of liars. That's it, everyone was laughing at him on the first day, he wasn’t going to eat anything, and the idiot just had to keep coming back, and making things worst.

"Don't bother lying, I know what you want. You win, now go the fuck away," said the Italian furious, hands shaking. "Don't make the both of us lose our time, I'll play in your fucking team!" he shouted throwing a handful of tomato at him.

Antonio did not say anything. He looked at the tomatoes and back to Lovino with concerned eyes. Great, now the hottest student at school thought he was crazy. Fuck it.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry if-" Antonio said before being cut of by multiple persons coming closer. Antonio shut up and stared at him, like everyone around.

Lovino could feel his cheeks redden. Everyone was staring at him. Soon it felt like suffocating. He wanted to leave. He should have never come here. He should not have come back in school, it was too soon. God, why was everything so fucking unfair? His eyes started to hurt.

Ecstatic, he was going to cry in front of everyone now.

"What's your fucking problem?" barged in an Albino, pushing Lovino unto the floor with a kick.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"What's your fucking problem?" asked Gilbert, pushing Lovino unto the floor with a kick. “Messing with our vice captain already?”

Lovino stood up and pushed back Gilbert. Ludwig grabbed Gilbert before anything else could happen.

Antonio could not move. Jack took the matter in hand, walked in and punched Lovino in the face. Thrown backward by sudden hit, the Italian stumbled back. People started cheering. Antonio got up grabbing Jack's arms but it was too late. Damage was already done.

Ludwig shouted, “Everybody calm down!” but it did not work.

Lovino stood silent looking murderous.

"Fratello!" shouted Feliciano, walking up to his brother. Lovino did not stop glaring at Jack. "Lovino, are you okay?” repeated Feliciano.

Lovino didn’t answer and turned away swearing loudly leaving the cafeteria. No one dared following but some students continued on cheering and whistling, like on a football pitch. Like it was a game.

Feliciano sighted loudly of relief, his eyes meeting Ludwig's. "Thanks," he mumbled. The German smiled back politely.

Jake finally got out of Antonio's grip and split on the floor, "Never liked Italians."

"What's going on here?" shouted the supervisor running to them, always perfectly late.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The door flew open. They all huddled into the room. Gilbert and Jack were focused on grinning to each others. First day, first convocation to the principal’s office; they could not be prouder. The Italians finally walked in.

Antonio could only stare in silence.

"I bruise easily," growled the Lovino apparently wanting to cut off Jack’s smugness right here and now.

Antonio's eyes could not leave the new student’s face. A blue mark was spreading from his lips to his cheekbone. But his brown eyes were the worst. Yet unwounded, they seemed washed out, tired out. Antonio was not sure what they were hiding. He probably had been crying.

The principal walked in. "The trio," he growled with distaste, not wanting to say they full nickname. "Where is Mr Bonnefoy?"

No one answered, too caught up in a glare battle to worry about the principal.

“Let’s suppose he had the intelligence of staying out of it for once,” he answered for himself. “Jack Kirkland, not a surprise. I did not have the pleasure to him you two?” He said to the twins with a shark like smile.

"Feliciano and Lovino Vargas," answered Feliciano smiling shyly, eyes pleading. "Sorry to meet like that."

The grin on Gilbert and Jack’s faces fell, when they saw the principal basically beam at the young Italian.

“Nice to meet you too.”

The principal of this prestigious school walked to his own sit that look more like a throne nowadays.

"I talked with Coach Karpusi," he continued. "You're lucky it happened between his naps or he would make you run all afternoon."

Gilbert was going to open his mouth to argue his defence when he got cut off.

"I don't want to hear it,” Mr Patel said sternly. “Your actions are inexcusable, even more so on the first day of school. Whatever the Coach says about training or football duties, you'll be severely punished for such careless behaviour."

Everyone looked down. "Detention," he said. "For all of you. At the cafeteria, so you can all learn to live together."

"But we are already going to work together in the team!" exclaimed Jack.

"Take that as a team building activity then." He answered off hand like a King bored of listening to the whiny peasants. "Go back to your classroom now."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Antonio sleepily woke up from two hours of Math and a never ending English lesson, and was quite contend of himself despise the terrible revelation. After every summer holidays, he hopes that maybe the English teacher would be teaching another year.  
Maybe she would just leave the school? Maybe she would retire? But no, she was always here, dragging Antonio through decades of literature and torturous grammatical rules.  
He stretched getting up, with his bag for the break. He barely glanced at the Italian brothers. One detention was enough for the first day, and even Gilbert agreed on that. He got out of the room meeting the rest of the trio.

" _Take that as team building,_ " mimicked Gilbert, outside the school’s gate, retelling once more the story to Francis. "I'll tell him that next time we end up in his office."

“Jack should not have punch him," mumbled Antonio and Francis looked up. Antonio shrugged carelessly. He was sure that if he had not that tan from the holidays, they would have seen the blush on his cheeks.

“But he attacked you! Team sticks together!" shouted Gilbert throwing his fist into the air, ready for the next fight.

Antonio nodded albeit reluctantly, Gilbert was right but something felt so wrong about it. They walked out of the parking lot, finished with this eventful first day.

He looked at the Italian brothers. Lovino's eyes were fixed on his brother furiously protective. Feliciano had apparently made few friends. Kiku, a quiet guy, was talking with them. More surprisingly, Ludwig was walking toward them with a grave expression.

"Gil','" called out Antonio. "What is he doing?"

"Knowing my brother probably apologise for me to Tomato Vargas." Said Gilbert rolling his eyes. "That's so not awesome."

"Tomato Vargas?" repeated Antonio. Before realising, Lovino looks such like a tomato when he blushed. He grinned.

"Jack name-coded the drama during lunch break the Tomato Incident as you got thrown some tomatoes.” Explained Gilbert.

“It’s quite good I must say," added Francis oddly professional about it, lighting his cigarette.

“Is he actually apologising?”

Gilbert was fuming so Francis added, "Ludwig insists on getting them on the team. He is probably just apologising because we need them."

Antonio kept his eyes on Lovino. He did not even acknowledge Ludwig. Words passed by and Feliciano suddenly hugged the German brother much to Lovino's distress. They kept talking, Lovino only glaring. And Antonio realised the sum of his actions.  
It was their first day and already got detentions and a bad reputation. No one should have to start like that. Antonio glanced back at his friends discussing Francis's new conquest.

I needed to apologise too, thought Antonio.

Tomorrow, he promised.

They got unto the bus. Gilbert left first as usual, his house was the first on the path. Francis stopped texting on his phone and stared at Antonio.

"What?" Antonio asked.

"I should be the one asking that mon ami," answered Francis. "What's going on?"

"Nothing?" Francis stared at him like his mother always do. She is psychologist and Francis kept on getting her expression, having inherited of her perspicacity about human emotions.

“Is it the new students?” Tried Francis.

It’s everything. But he did not say that.

“I don't know," Antonio said instead. I just find him interesting, but he did not say that, it was creepy. Antonio is not creepy.

“He reminds me of you," Francis said. "With all the violent reactions. When you just arrived you hated everything, yourself included."

Antonio nodded. It did make sense, even though Francis never actually talked to Lovino yet. Then Francis added: "But it's not a reason to throw yourself to his defence.”

"What?"! No!-"

"We don't need another drama nor distraction," cut in Francis. "You don't need it. We have a lot to get on, grades, football-“

“I know! And I am not! I barely talked to him, or even looked at him!” Francis stared and Antonio just prefer running away with a "It’ll be fine. See you tomorrow!"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Home

 

"Another detention," chided the spanish lady through the video call. Antonio looked away from the computer screen. “Cariño! I thought you were going to make an effort!”

He smiled sheepishly at her. "Football team spirit Mama. I did not have a choice.”

“Just be careful, but tell me about your first day!" she urged sparkling of enthusiasm.

"It was fine," smiled Antonio, not daring to talk about the slow building of the monstrous pressure coming in. He did not want to worry her more, she was already so worried to see him alone in this big house. Even if it had always been like that. "We have new players!" he said changing subject.

"That's good," she laughed. "Remember, you can’t make a mistake. You need to do the best, with the university entry right across the corner!”

"I know, don't worry…” he replied, and god he remembers the application.

"Oh! I'm not worried!" she said with a laugh. Antonio knew she was telling the truth, she was not worried. She barely even care unless it was about getting a well-known university to sign him up so she could then brag about it with her colleagues. "I know you'll be just fine."

"Sure mom," smiled Antonio, what did she know about his future? Was it the “mom” instinct telling her Antonio was going to be fine? She did not even know what he ate tonight. Anger was spreading in his hands. “When are you back?" he asked instead.

"Oh! You know," she joked, but for Antonio knew there was nothing to joke about. "We'll see, maybe next week."

Antonio barely hold back rolling his eyes. "What about dad?"

"Why should I know?" she laughed. "You have enough money for the month right?"

"Yeah, don't worry about that.”

"Good, I'm seeing him tomorrow in Berlin anyway. I'll send you a text to tell you when he will be back. I need to go now, I'll bring you a little thing from Bruxelles!"

Antonio smiled, knowing she could forget about the text, and except the most expensive useless thing you can find in Belgian airports. Probably chocolate. Cool, right? Chocolate is lovely. Everybody loves chocolate. Antonio smiled.

"Ok! Love you!"

She smiled cutting the video. Antonio sighted like getting an unknown pressure off his shoulders. It should not be so difficult to talk to his mother.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"A detention!" shouted Nonno. "On the first day?”

The two brothers looked down.

"You should be shamed!" he roared the entire house trembling. Feliciano stepped back. "How dare you to cause problem after what we've been through? Haven't you grow up?"

"It's my fault." Said Lovino not looking up. "Feliciano has nothing to do with it.”

"Obviously, Feliciano could not hurt a fly,” he sneered. He glared stepping toward him. “What do you have something to say for bringing you brother down in that mess?”

Lovino shrugged, mouth turning dry. He was not used to such open anger at home. Nonno was not going to hit them, Lovino tried to convince himself. Even though he had nothing to support that statement, it is not like they knew the man, it’s not like he is calm of nature.

But it could not be happening. It was just “post-trauma stress”, just casual hyper vigilance, just a constant sensation that everything is suddenly going to go terribly wrong, the need to be ready to run at any point. Just his mind playing childish tricks with every day motions, a fork falling on a plate, a door smashing close or even someone shouting over the phone. Everyday things that should not be threatening but somehow was.

Lovino used to believe that their father, who was surely not the calmest man alive but that, behind all that anger, he was fundamentally nice. He never went there. And even after it all, Lovino has never been wrong about his father. He never hurt them with his own hands. Even though the many times Lovino doubt it, even though the many chances he got at it, he never touched them.

So was his grandfather going to start? Would he really hit them out of anger? How should they know? They met him, barely few months ago.

“Nothing to say, Lovino? Your mother would be shamed of such behaviour.” Said Nonno with such terrible certitude than even Feliciano felt the burn on his heart. "She did not die for you to act like an ungrateful idiot!”

Feliciano glanced at his brother, but Lovino was glaring right back at Nonno not hiding his anger.

"She is not dead!" he shouted, with the dangerous innocence of hope. The temptation of the Devil because all knew there was only a slim chance it was the case. This hope was not something to shout across the room, they all hold it deep into their heart. But Nonno was not going to listen to it, it was too painful, the hope to see his daughter again, was too painful.

"How dare you-" he growled stepping closer, one of his arm dangerously high up and bend. Maybe it was only Lovino's imagination. Hyper-vigilance, right? Just an aftermath error, a trick kicking in the adrenaline straight into his muscles.

"We're sorry,” murmured Feliciano moving closer to his twin.

Nonno hesitated, looking, searching for words. He finally stepped back.

"Just go to bed.” He ordered, tired. He was giving up like he did all along this summer, powerless and useless. His daughter died and now his grandsons were as uncooperative as possible.

For once, they both obeyed. Lovino smashed the door close. He sat down, breathing in and out at an irrational pace, hands shaking. Fear ran into his veins from his arms to his heart and head. He needed to move, he needed to run away, something was going to eat him alive. He got up, put his running shoes on.

"Lovi?" asked Feliciano straight up on his bed, he was crying.

"I'm going downstairs for a run."

There was no place in argument, and Feliciano knew it. No one could reason with Lovino in this state, with tear burning up his eyes, anger running in his blood. He left the apartment for the gym few floors down, not seeing Nonno nursing a glass of whiskey in the living-room, crying as well as them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lovino woke up with a jump, again. As he laid slowly back down in the bed few elements triggered a frown. There was no shutters on the window, the dusty morning light was assaulting my eyes. However, it was already dark, cloudy and cold outside. So obviously he was not in Milan anymore. It was also smelling something close to burn metal and tar. And he knew it was bad sign, because no one was shouting. Lovino lazily got up, his skin damp from the cold sweat of the last nightmare, which he had no memory from amazingly. He hates it. He hates it so much, woking up like that, his skin sticking to the sheets and t-shirt. Not the best way to start off the day.

The empty, salty feeling of waking up with no rest was frustrating. It was another volatile useless night bringing him back to square one. His mind could not rest but his body was already asking for another round. When was his mind going to take a break? Does he need to die for that? With the average life spam, he could last quite a long time.  
Lovino grumbled passing his hands on his temples and hair as a fucking headache appeared. The burning smell was getting stronger, Lovino had to react soon if he wanted to survive. _If_.

He stretched, feeling one by one his muscles and tendons tense and ache like a slow burn spreading in his bones. He was not going to ran again so soon.

"Madonna!" Ah, someone finally noticed the smell. "Lovino! I'm burning Nonno's house! Romano!”

His head throbbed. Lovino got up and muttered a silent apology, for not taking care of it before hand to whoever maps out Karma. "I'm coming Feli!"

After throwing a wet towel on the top of the toaster and unplugging it, Lovino went on with that beautiful day by fill a cup of coffee and a glass of aspirin.

“Panicking does not help.” He chided to his brother who ignore him rightly so. They both learnt it the bitterest way possible, there was nothing they could do to stop awful thing from happening.

Feliciano was still crying over the phone to the firefighter he had called. The fire-fighter or telephone operator was apparently enjoying his company, amused perhaps of his poor attempt at making toasts. How can he make friend with fucking everyone?

Lovino gulped down my aspirin, it had a disconcerting familiar lemony taste. Feliciano was still on the phone talking about… curtains, it seems. The fuck?

Anyway, Lovino glared at the annoying TV, half relieved not to have to talk to his brother, half bitter that Feli was ignoring him for a unknown firefighter that did not even saved him. Mom used to ramble so much too, over the phone, over a coffee, after school.

The thought of it hurts more than he hoped for. He clutched his hand around the cup of coffee, not wanting this feeling to take over now. Maybe later. Or never. Never was good.

He needed to move again.

Lovino glanced around the room, falling on the door. There was a little stock of letters. He got up, amassing them into a small pile. It felt quite the adult move, with the cup of coffee and the feeling to have save Feliciano again from hazardous situation. They were not doing that bad, when you think about it.

Lovino rapidly went through them. Advertisement, bank statement, advertisement, another one. The last one did not have a stamp or address. He turned it around in his hand. There was a name, Romulus Vargas. The writing was sober, composed of constituted sticks, quite a hard writing, quite familiar too. It was in blue oriental ink, how could a simple colour seem so menacing, the past coming back knocking.

Yep, Lovino definitely needed to stop watching those American crime series. He touched the envelop, pressing his fingers against the thin paper. He probably should leave it alone, it is not really their house after all. It was only made of paper, nothing hard, two maybe three layers. He hold it against the morning light washing into the room by the large windows of the 6th floor apartment.

There was a darker layer. Would it be a photo?

He took it back in hands folding it. It was hard, it was highly possible for it to be a photo.

Lovino’s mouth turned dry, he could still hear Feliciano rambling happily over the phone but it seems much father away now.  
But, no. He was not imagine anything. It was not from anyone he could possibly know. No one knew they were here. No one cared about them. They were safe. It was private correspondence for his grandfather. Surely an old friend. Or a girlfriend of his grandsons age he was hiding somewhere. How disgusting.

It was nothing important.

Lovino looked up trying to anchor himself on something. Feliciano was pacing, giggling at the phone. Time was flying on the white wall but the clock’s hands were still. 7h20. Seven twenty.

7:20, Dad would have been hovering by the door, keys in hands with his open fray shirts and black ops sunglasses. Mom said he looked like some American spy with it. As for her, she would surely be shouting some "you'll thank me” orders as she used to call them; Do you take your lunchbox? Did you brush your teeth? Where is your jacket?

7:20, time to get moving. He let the letters on the kitchen table, went to shower and change to a simple grey jean and black t-shirt. They said to keep a low profile. Who needs colours, anyway? He could hear Feliciano from here complain about the lack of fashion in this family.

Finally ready, he was waiting for Feli at the door.  
8:00, they were going to be just in time.

"Lovino, I can't find my bag!" He shouted.

Well, now they were going to be late.

 

 

When they finally got to that normal classroom in middle of bloody nowhere. Bitter taste got into his mouth. It was like a twitch in his hand. He did not want to be here. Everywhere he looked reminds him why, he was in this so lost place. He sat down, still at one of desk. Lovino just wanted to run but instead his blue pencil levitated few minutes above the line. Pregnant teacher got replace by that over enthusiastic young teacher. Pregnant that is what the trio started as a gossip. It was hard to miss them, they were in every conversations and Feliciano was already up to date with all of it, he had some special skill when it came to gossip, like he was a magnet to the popular crowd. Maybe it was the way he acts, talks or smiles. Whatever it was, Lovino sure did not have it.

Anyhow, the new teacher made them a “get-to-know” questionnaire that she will either throw away or pull up on the wall of her bedroom. It was either useless or creepy, moreover it had been a challenge from the start:

 

Name: _Lie?_

Birthday: _Lie but with numbers_

Parents job: _Definitely big lies here_

What do you want to do after you graduate: _..._

 

He frowned at this one, trying hard to see if there was any trap, any right answer possible because there was obviously wrong ones. But the only one making its way into his head was: don’t get caught, don’t die.

They gave them all the right answer back at the police station. The new name, his new birthday date but not the answer for this one. Bastards. It is always the same old song with them, they never have answers for the important things, the ones that matters.

Not dying is a fair goal right? It is a quite essential to any other things he could do. But there must be a catch. There was like five lines or so under the question, for only two words? That looks suspicious, the kind of suspicious that gets you two hours free of charges in the counselling office.

It is not worth it, if he was going to make the trip to that office he might as well write something more dramatic, “I don’t know, because I kinda wish I was dead.” The teacher would probably laugh and send him to detention for making hurtful jokes.

But staying alive, not getting caught, never stop running, finding his mother, finding his father, leaving this place and never coming back, getting some sleep, real sleep, trying to just keep breathing, nope, it was a no-go. A letter of last wishes, because, really, who would plans to stay alive? Right? People should plan for okay stuff, for exciting stuff. Talking about killing yourself was a jock but planning not to die was way too suspicious. Great.

Should he go for a comical effect? “I have no idea. We are seventeen for fuck’s sake.”

Swearing would send him to another kind of office. And 2hours of detention. Probably.

So yeah, Lovino did not wrote anything. Sorry, he was not.

Now he could not wait for the actual lesson to start.

And as soon as it started he could not wait for it finish. Have you ever tried to follow science with a migraine? No? Well it sucks. Even more when some stupid albinos would not stop interrupting the soft flow of the teacher. The bell could not have rang sooner.

Not running away for now, Lovino thought glancing at Feli who was talking to that Japanese guy. Lovino was still bitter about the football team punching him, but he was not going to go after them, he could not care less now. Feliciano needed to settle back down. Whatever Feliciano wants right? It was it. Caring was clearly overrated and overused, why should Lovino care about someone who doesn't know him? Why should he care about players wanting to trick him into the team? He was good at football after all. Feliciano wanted to play anyway.

Lovino looked up at the blackboard continuing on him line of thought. Why should he care if he fails? It's only school. Mother had left them. Outside from Feliciano's happiness, there was not a lot to care for.

He looked down at the yellow paper. Maths, numbers. He used to be great at it. He used to be great point. Frankly don't you wonder why you keep trying so hard sometimes? It's so easy to care a little bit less. That was this year motto; Careless.

It was it, he thought as the last students walked in. The stupid Spanish and Albino guys laughed out loud. Joking around. Idiots. Lovino glared. Care less, but take no shit.

Yeah. That was the perfect motto for this year.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> People write Ancient Rome so differently, I was wondering how to go with it. Hope he won't disappoint you.


	4. Blue Ink

Antonio walked in late for Math; his keys still in hands, the week old envelope full of dad’s cash, the taste of ashes in his mouth, and his jacket half put on.

Usual morning in other words.

"You’re late, Mr Carriedo,” said the teacher just in case Antonio didn’t notice. Maybe he had already forgotten about how he missed the bus, or how fought with the taxi driver all the way to school.

But small mercies are the best because Antonio was late for Math. He just couldn’t stand two full hours of it.

Nevertheless, Antonio smiled at the teacher, closing his eyes slightly, tilting his head on the side. Gilbert always says it makes him look like an innocent idiot.

And nobody punishes an innocent idiot.

Unsurprisingly, the teacher let it go. Gil winked at him and Francis blew a kiss as Antonio walked down the aisle. They all had found someone to sit with, and Antonio tried not feel too betrayed.  
He went for the back of the room, maybe like this he could take a well deserved morning nap in peace. As he walked past everyone, he could not miss the deadly glare of the new student. Lovino was already here, already annoyed and slouched on his desk.

"Watch your foot," growled the italian under his breath, as Antonio walked past. The vice-captain made a show of stepped carefully over the precious bag.

Lovino sounded this morning nothing short of grumpy. Maybe it was his usual personality? Started to think Antonio. Not angry, just plainly disappointed with everything but right now, mostly with Antonio’s foot.

Antonio smiled back with some pity as he noticed the bruise. It was just worst today and his dark sweater made his skin even paler. A ink blue stain ran from the impact point to his eye, drawing a circle around it like water colour. The skin had sullen adding purple to the painting.

“How are you?” tried Antonio feeling guilty and therefore dutifully engaged into some small talk.

Lovino barely lifted his eyes from the papers spread on his desk, so Antonio could receive a deadly glare by proxy.

"Carriedo! You'll socialise later!" Shouted the teacher from behind. "Sit down now, or you'll stand for two hours. After seeing your grade from last year, I believe you need to pay attention now."

Antonio absently nodded.

He sat down a bit further way at the first empty chair, throwing his bag down. It happened to be next to Feliciano. The young italian smiled shyly.

"Hellooo!" he whispered, eyes shining. "You too are hiding from the maths teacher?"

Antonio started getting his stuff out. “Yep.”

“I talked with Ludwig yesterday. He said you guys were sorry!" Feliciano murmured excited as he paused a second from doodling on his manual. “I think he is right. Let's all forget about it and be friends!”

Antonio’s eyes opened wide. Feliciano seemed serious, and was now offering a peaceful hand shake, so the vice-captain didn’t hesitate and grabbed his hand.

“Of course!”

Feliciano giggled and Antonio had barely had time to register the glare from Lovino, before the teacher called them out again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes in and Antonio’s eyes already started to wander around the classroom. Even if the teacher was incredibly soporific, writing more letters than numbers on the backboard which let Antonio guess about being in Maths classes at all, it was nevertheless impossible to nap next to Feliciano…

The Italian was currently doodling bunnies and stars all over the pages, mid-way through rambling about how he ended up here: “I just hate math so much, you know… I can’t believe fratello talked me into taking it… It’s like people had too much time on their hands and decided making impossible calculations were fun… it’s torture… Brain torture… I just really want food now. Pasta…”

Instead Antonio’s eyes fell on Lovino just few row in front, easy to found with his hair were going side to side testifying of the lack of hairbrush. One was particularly standing out, like an antenna. It was quite impressive.

Antonio looked back to the one next to him.

Feliciano had the exact same problem, maybe it was a family thing? Maybe they did not own hairbrush? Who does not have hairbrush? Who let their children out without having their hair brushed or at least straightened a bit? They did not even seem to have a proper haircut. Even with Papa and Mama being away, they always got home to take care of those things or at least orders Antonio to get an haircut.

"Antonio? Why aren't you writing?" shouted the teacher a menacing book pointing at him. It looks like he had been asking for a while as all the students stared at him whispering. Even Lovino glanced at the back of the room.

Apparently seeing something close to a stare of complete incomprehension, the teacher sighted, "Pay attention, young man. We’re on page 25."

Antonio nodded looking back at his book. But who cares about trigonometry? He looked at Lovino again. The Italian was left handed, the right hand hidden against the croak of his neck. Antonio’s eyes ran over his neck, he was bony, and that was an understatement. They did not play rugby, surely, but football requires a bit of strength. Feliciano wasn’t tough neither.

"Vargas, maybe?" asked the teacher turning away from the board. The both of them looked up, the teacher added; “The one with the goth t-shirt and got beaten up.”

Lovino raised an eyebrow looking down at his t-shirt. Feliciano was dressed in pink and yellow jeans, so unless the teacher was not only slightly insulting but also completely ignorant in fashion, he was talking about Lovino.

"I have not idea," he announced, clearly not interest in answering at all. And once again, neither ashamed nor sorry.

The teacher glared. But the young italian seemed unmoved. Instead of shouting, the teacher turned the question to the Swiss exchange student, official saviour of Economy and Math's teachers.

It took moment before Antonio realised Lovino wasn’t angry. His hands were the first thing to shatter his pissed dictator facade. If you looked closely his whole demeanour seemed off, constantly on edge and defensive like a trap animal. His hands were hidden under the desk, pulling on his sleeves, impossible to stop moving. His eyes were throwing daggers made of sharp glass but they were casted on the side every time they were not focus on the next danger. He was lost in his own world but this was nothing close of daydreaming; he was swimming into a nightmare.

How could you be so scared in your own mind?

Lovino stopped ravaging his sleeves and pushed a strain of hair behind his ear.

"Antonio!" shouted the teacher. "Change place! Sit at the front maybe it will help concentrate the two neurones of yours!"

Antonio grumbled at first but took his things to front row in diligent silence. It was too early to throw a tantrum. He was planning to sit right behind Francis, who arrived early for a certain English student but the teacher saw it coming and send him next to someone else. Antonio did not recognised him. The blond smiled at him, acknowledging him with a short nod. So obvious, Antonio smiled back to the unknown boy.

"Are you new?" he whispered.

"It's Matthew," growled Gilbert. He had materialised behind them and tuned in to the conversation. "He has been in the team for like 3years!”

Antonio frowned looking back at the blond. Gil said it with such confidence, Antonio could only mumbled a “Sure…”

"Have you seen Tomato Vargas?" giggled Gilbert glancing behind him. "We should rename him Plum Vargas."

Antonio turned around again. Lovino was on the other side of the class room now, light was crashing on him from the window. The bruise looked even worst from here. Gilbert found it hilarious, though all Antonio could feel was frustration boiling and confusion steaming.

It happened before, fighting with someone and making fun of them, it never went too far. But now, Antonio was not feeling it. Someone he barely knew was making him doubt his friends and his attitude. It was not because of reason or logic, Antonio could feel it like a bitter taste in his mouth, a twist in his stomach. He needed to do something about it. Maybe it's their own fault that his mood is awful today.

Antonio had to apologise. He had to do it today. They need a cohesive team, they need each-others.

"Antonio Carriedo!” The teacher shouted again. "Go to the Principal's office!"

 

 

* * *

 

 

One hour detention after school became quickly half an hour after the word in of the coach. The Italians looked staggered at the director’s announcement. Mr Patel was now all nice and happy to deduct time off his students’ timetable. Gilbert had that knowing smirk set on his face. It seems that the school board had a talk with him reminding him for the need to have the football team on top.

Jack chuckled openly mocking the director. Half an hour was nothing compared to the 4hours, the bad touch trio and Jack got last year after setting fire to the laboratories. They were all working out happily, finding it quite easy; few boxes to orders, few cupboards to clean.

But Antonio hadn’t given up and wanted to find Lovino to apologise. Maybe it was only too ease his soul, purely self-relieving but he could not stand on the side lines.

Lovino hadn’t taken the detention as lightly as them and had disappeared the moment Antonio entered the kitchens. The Italian was quite good at it. After saying “hi” to Lucy and listening through another of Feliciano’s story, Antonio went to find him.

When Antonio walked in, he was going through a box and Antonio could barely see him in that small but messy room. He looked so small in the large cupboard, whispering to himself, trying to keep out the silence mostly. Lovino was hidden in the back between the metallic sleeves, dusty boxes and that awful fake orange lighting. Antonio bumped into the table making Lovino jumped out his skin.

The spanish student laughed out of embarrassment, while the other cursed trying to get back to work.

"Sorry," Antonio said still chuckling.

Lovino barely glanced at him, sitting down to dive his arm inside the card box. Not a good start, thought Antonio but he kept a smile on. It wasn’t really Lovino’s fault after all, Antonio’s friends had punched him in the face which resulted in him being stuck in detention.

“How is it going?” Antonio asked.

Lovino stopped and turned to the other boy. “Fine.”

Antonio raised his eyebrows not believing him for a second but also beating himself up for not having Francis’s easiness at starting important conversations.

Lovino was openly glared, his fingers tangled with the hem of his sweater as he dug his arms out of the containers. His amber eyes staring directly at him, it took all of Antonio’s courage and pride as the vice-captain not to step back. There was something so resigned about the new student, as if he knew he was cornered, like he knew he had lost.

After a moment of silence, Lovino just rolled his eyes, standing back up as he tried to lift the box up: “So, are you just going to stand here?”

"I… I'm so sorry for yesterday-“ rushed Antonio. Maybe he should have talk to Francis about it…

"It's okay," said the Italian full of anger before Antonio could continue on that disastrous path.

He was definitely lying, nothing could have been clearer as he focused on the packs again. But Antonio didn’t have much of a plan after apologising, so he went with some: “How are you?”

Lovino got his point across by letting his box fall. It was quite theatrical, Antonio had to confess.

"You don't get hints, do you?" he mumbled passing one of his sleeve against his forehead like if a beginning of headache was threatening him. He looked so tired. "How am I?” he repeated. “Does it look like it is going fine? Do I look like I am having the time of my life, listening to your lies? Guys like you don’t care about apologising just getting off the hook when things get serious.”

Antonio frowned at his aggressive behaviour, focused on what Francis said. He was wrong. Lovino wasn’t truly aggressive, but terrified. They are so different and Antonio was doing terribly wrong by him. He scratched his head trying to focus.

“You want my forgiveness?” hissed Lovino. “For me to promise not to complain to the director? You have it. Now get out and walk away.”

"Listen, we really got off on the wrong foot; I never meant to scare you,” Antonio said looking straight at him as sincerely as possible. As a blush started to appear on his unwounded cheek, Lovino stopped moving or trying to escape his eyes. "I'm really bad at first impression.”

Lovino narrowed eyes in suspicion fast enough to make Antonio forget maybe understanding what was happening behind Lovino’s eyes. No answer came from the Italian.

“Can we start again?" asked Antonio trying again and again to hold on, to wait for Lovino to take his hand.

Lovino tugged on his sleeves, laughing to himself not loud enough to be truly threatening. “Scare me? Bad at first impression?” He repeated, eyes flashing.

Antonio’s eyes widen, why did it feel like when he founds a way, Lovino alway stepped backward.

“I’m in detention because your friend punched me,” he enunciated, walking up to Antonio. “You’re bullies and you almost forget about it because you always get with it! This is not the first rich kids school I attend.”

Antonio wanted to smash his face against the nearest shelf and barely restrained. As he tried to pace his breathing Lovino continued on that same taunting tone.

“We were done from the beginning. I'll play for you, if you and your friends stay away."

“You don't have to play,” hissed Antonio, fists closing, head pounding and the Italian just smiled as if Antonio was missing something, as if Antonio just showed him a card, showed him how easily he could lose control. Lovino stepped back and as he walked back to the box he was filling, he turned his back turned to Antonio daring him to make a move.

“I’m sorry you believed I wanted to get you in the team like that," he continued a bit forceful. Something in his voice must have been enough to warn Lovino because he did not come close of the Spanish again. “Sorry you took it the wrong way.”

Lovino shrugged, "I really can't bloody care less.”

“Just leave me alone,” he said grabbing another box, apparently not interest into getting into another fight he can’t win.

“Sure,” growled Antonio before storming out. Why couldn’t he be as easy as his brother?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lovino only had one wish left this week, crash on his bed and never move before that disastrous week becomes past. He stepped inside the apartment following blindly Feliciano as the first weekend since their arrival started. Disastrous since the constant teasing and bullying had been the highlight of those few days. Feliciano had miraculously escape most of it, so at least Lovino could enjoy that simple victory. Apparently insulting one of the most popular guy wasn't Lovino brightest idea.

As Feliciano was looking forward selections next week, and Lovino was looking forward to smashing that idiot bright smile into the pitch grass under the powerless eyes of his closest friends after a quick but his efficient tackle that never fail to work on smug idiots. His bag was going to hit the floor when Feliciano just froze in front of him.

"Good evening," said the officer getting up from the leather sofa. He was young, and baby faced. He wasn’t new to the brothers but Lovino couldn’t remember his name.

“Hi,” answered sombrely Lovino waiting for a beat. His eyes were stuck on the intruder as Feliciano slowly moved back toward the door. “Need something?” he demanded.

Nonno decided now to walked in with a tray of drinks. “You’re home!” smiled the old Italian. Both boys tried to answer it with a smile too but it wasn’t as natural. “Come sit!”

As they all moved to the living room, as the officer continued calmly; “I’m Tino Väinämöinen, and this is Inceptor Mathias Køhler.”

The inceptor didn’t move from the sofa, but smirked at the teenagers. He apparently had better to do than to talk to lying teenagers on after-hours so Inceptor Køhler started on an authoritative tone right away: “We need to talk to you about your father.”

“Our Father? No… Really?" Lovino whispered turning to his brother in surprise. Nonno turned red and the two officers blinked few times.

"Romano," warned Nonno. "Drop the sarcasm."

The name hurt more than Lovino excepted and just had to sit down. Feliciano hurried to follow his brother.

"We wanted to see you in person," said Officer Väinämöinen. "I know it's a really difficult situation for you-"

"Can we cut it short?" asked the Inceptor grabbing a glass to down it.

The officer glared but didn’t contradict his colleague.

"What's wrong?” Lovino asked, as his brother fidgeted.

The somber officer glanced back before starting with regrets, "We have reason to believe that your father knows you are here."

"We’re not changing school again?! It has not even been three days,” Feliciano panicked finally talking. He looked at his family as if they had any control over their own lives nowadays. “I don't want to go again!”

Lovino grabbed his hand and glared at Nonno when he tried getting closer. Nonno has never been there for them, starting now would be hypocritical at best, ego-centrical at worst.

“Why is it a issue now?” Lovino asked bitterly. The police sent them to their grandfather, even in a foreign country, it mustn’t have stop their father from finding them quickly.

"Nothing you should worry about,” tried officer Väinämöinen with a bright reassuring smile.

Lovino narrowed his eyes, "Yeah, sure, we’re not worried at all now."

"So what do we do?" cut Feli, his voice trembling but he was holding back his tear this time.

"You’re not changing school again," said the officer which made Feli smile tentatively. "It's useless, he always ends up finding you."

Feliciano tightened his hold on his brother’s hand, begging him not to take the bait. Lovino frowned at the tone, hearing loudly the accusations.

“We have not talked to him,” said Lovino. “We have not contacted him.”

"Can we see your phone?" the officer continued and Lovino got up letting his brother’s hand drop.

Feliciano gave them the phone as Lovino walked away, hands shaking. Feliciano did not look at him, helping his brother imagined he succeed into disappearing. He was feeling sick and wondered in how much trouble he would get in if he just run to the bathroom now.

The Inceptor watched Lovino carefully while the others started typing on that bloody phone. Nonno was looking at his feet in shame.

“How did you get that bruise?” commented the Inceptor.

Lovino glared at him. “A football misunderstanding.”

“How do you want us to trust you if you just keep lying,” chided Køhler.

“I would have tell you to fuck off but I would have been told off. I don't make the rules.”

Neither Nonno nor the Inceptor had time to answer;

"This," Officer Väinämöinen said giving the phone back with a quiet smile, aware but ignoring the existing tensions. "Is the emergency number. If you see him, hear from him, if you think you might have saw him, anything. You call us that number and we'll come. You don’t even have to say anything.”

Lovino stopped pacing. "Are you sure you don't want to tell us why things are changing? We can’t help you if we don’t understand what’s going on.”

The Inceptor snored.

“We just think he might know where you are,” answered Väinämöinen.

"We already knew that!" Lovino exclaimed coming closer to his brother.

The two officers did not even deny it. Fear creeped in, fear for Feliciano’s safety, for his own. What if it was important? What if Feliciano was in danger now? Why would the officer tell them about this? Why does it matter now?

"You think he’d come here,” Lovino realised. “You think he is here. Is he here?”

"Sorry, but we can not give you any informations,” said the officer. "There is no way of knowing. We are just asking you to be careful."

"Careful?" the Italian laughed. Feliciano grabbed his hand again. His hand was so still, it made Lovino realise how much he was shaking.

"Is it because of last time?" Lovino urged. "I already said it! I would never put Feliciano in danger like that again! I'm sorry! If we need to know, just say it!"

"Romano," chided Nonno.

As he looked at the officers, Lovino could see that none of them believed him. He wanted to scream, but Feli's hand kept him still, grounded.

“Fine.” He gave up, guilt burning his throat and eyes. "Whatever. Can we go now?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

"We need to talk about it," urged Lovino trying to keep his voice down. It was past bed time and the lights were out. Nonno had send them to sleep just after diner, scared that one of them find the courage to talk about the Police meeting earlier. Omertà was laying evilly on them like a burden, fear dancing on their fingers holding on their forks and knives above the plates. But now they were alone, in the safety of their beds.

"I don't want to talk about it," answered Feliciano but there was no conviction in his voice. He rolled on his brother's side trying to see him throughout the ocean of darkness.

"Do you think he is here?" continued Lovino, staring at the ceiling. Feliciano shrugged bed sheets whispering, waiting for his opinion first. "I think he is trying to contact us." Lovino said loud enough for his brother only to hear, like if walls could be listening to them.

The younger twin huffed, "So what? There is nothing to talk about. The Polizia will be doing their job and arrest him."

“What about Mama?!” urged Lovino turning to face his brother, the need of sitting up boiling in his body but it would have been too much noise.

"We don't know what he wants," whispered Feliciano with a tightened voice. "Or what he will do."

"He is not going to hurt us!" said Lovino and Feliciano could not look away. Why does no one understand? "He is our father," repeated Lovino with the same certitude.

"I want to believe you, Roma…"

Lovino growled, hands running over his eyes. He could not be upset at Feliciano, it was not his brother to blame. There was no one to blame but him. The older italian breathed in, letting it go away once again, tying to get some sleep.

"We have to do something," mumbled Lovino eyes searching through the dark of the bedroom, while Feliciano fell into sleep. "Anything."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for the comments and Kudos!!! Loved all of them...  
> Sorry for the delay, hope you'll enjoy this chapter!


	5. The Tomato Incident 2.0

 

"So we have the awesomest joke of the year," giggled Gilbert. Antonio nodded uninterested. "So first we are going to full his locker of tomato can that we opened." Now Gil had all this attention but it was impossible for him to find something to say. "So when he will open everything will explode on him. Jack thought the tomatoes would be a nice touch to our first fight at the tomato buffet."

And Antonio watched Gilbert continue insinuating that playing the worst joke, on someone they barely knew, was the best they could do. But Antonio did not care anymore, Lovino and his friends could behave the way they want, maybe Lovino even deserved it a little.

"Jack always knows how to sign his mischief," sighted Francis. "Personalise it. He could be a great artist."

Antonio conceded that nodding above my bowl of noodle. His parents were not home, which means microwaved food and video camera plus computer game all night with his friends. Isn’t that the best way to spend his Sunday evening? Which was what he did all weekend anyway. No church, no diner, no awkward breakfast just games and with the current weather the trio had only meet at the modern gym complex to waste the saturday away.

“So, I got the idea of doing it on Monday. We have to go to the swimming pool anyway after," said Gil. "He will be able to wash it off so we won’t be either caught or thrown out. I think it's a good compromise. What do you think?"

Francis nodded, "Seems good enough, I can get the teacher assistant attention long enough so you can break into his locker. She has this amazing eyes, that I need to get into my list of conquest anyway."

Antonio was staring in wonder at Francis. Why would he agree if he actually believed it is wrong. He never said anything before against it but now Antonio was sure he was going to disagree make a settle comment on it. No he was encouraging it, helping, like if nothing changed.

"Toni?" repeated Gil. "Are you in or out?"

I hesitated looking at Francis's screen. He was typing some messages to some girls.

"He need you to buy the tomato cans," urged Gilbert. "And set it up obviously! It'll be so fun! We can even film it!"

Antonio breathed in. It's true it would be fun. He doesn't see why it should be a bad idea. Lovino was not even going to be hurt. They all have to shower after anyway.

"I'm in," he said. "Let's meet at the corner shop 30minutes before."

Gil giggled and jumped of his sit, making his notorious awesome dance. Francis smiled widely winking at me. Well… tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day.

"Now that's settled. Let's play," said Antonio grabbing his headphones.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Oh god shut up. Why won't he shut up. Lovino turned again in his boiling bed. It was dry and warm at the same time, uncomfortable. From here, he could hear Feliciano snores. It was comforting the first hour but it's been four. Now it was just another nuisance. Just like this bed, his painful cheek, and the freaking evening they just had. He could still hear the TV from the other room, presenting and acting for someone probably asleep too. Feliciano apparently have it from his grandfather to snore like a train.

Lovino pushed off the bed cover, excessed. Why was I still here? was the only thought echoing in his head. He sat up, pushing his hair away from his face. Sleeping was the worst, guilt and fear was always crawling back. It was the least he deserved.

They have done nothing of the weekend, Nonno only getting out to attend the Mass. Meanwhile Lovino had been trying to sleep the weekend away, staying far from anyone and any thought of the policer officers on Friday. It didn’t mean anything. Everything was fine. He just overslept during the day.

How could he even complain? Feliciano probably has sleeping problems too but he is dealing with it. He curled up, glancing around this unknown bedroom like swimming in the middle of the sea. Everything was dark, he stared at it hoping it would open up and shallow him like it did with the room. Maybe he could drown.

He sighted, how depressing. What would Feli do? He wondered. Imagine out of the darkness a formidable place. He could imagine he was at home. Imagine that behind this black curtains, there was his home. He bite his lips. He could, but it was impossible to recreate the smell, the feeling, the family.

He closed his eyes knowing well it won't matter open or close it was just darkness. He tried harder. He imagine the walls, the rooms, but you can't see your home like you see your house. All he could see was the house. No home, no family. It needed to be filled, but now he was alone on this pictures of the house he left. It was like an empty shell. How could he be so stupid. Now he was breathless.

He laid back down, with no more comfort than few minutes ago.

Light shone through the curtain and his first thought was the police. What did they want again? It was so late.

It took an unhealthy amount of time to realise it was not the police for one simple reason. He was in a building. Impossible for the police cars to shine that high. He straightened up. The bed moved and Feliciano mumbled. He got up feet encountering the red tartan carpet. He walked up the window and move the curtain on the side highly aware of Feli's position to not wake him up.

Lovino sighted. It was the sun. He glanced at the clock. 5am. Great, just great. He has not sleeping at all. Trying would be more patience's consuming than to stay awake now on.

He sat on the floor drawing patterns on the floor like children play in sand, writing names. Feeling each bone of his fingers move smoothly, cracking a bit, almost still painful.

Few minutes later something started moving in the apartment. Nonno surely. No way he was getting out of his room now.

Time passed in a blur, Feliciano mumbling at times and cursing from the kitchen reasoned throughout the empty flat.

…

A moment he was on the carpet of the bedroom, the next he was in the taxi with the bitter taste of diluted coffee and burned toast.

"It's so cool!" His brother had coaxed hugging Lovino's arm. Feliciano smiled brightly. At least he was happy or maybe he was just trying to cheer him up, Lovino was not sure anymore nowadays.

The police had decided to send a taxi to pick them up for school or anywhere they wanted to go actually. Oh Joy. Awesome, as you can imagine they could not even go where they wish without been watched by the police.

"At least we aren’t going to be late anymore." Lovino mumbled trying to help Feliciano drown in his sweet optimism.

Feliciano smiled and went back to his ringing phone. Probably that German bastard…

The city moved around while they were stuck in the traffic. Being by foot was a real desire even more so as Lovino knew the driver would not let them out unless it's in front the school.

This is exhausting, thought the older Italian seeing the badly concealed badge on the "Taxi driver"'s belt. He was no more a taxi driver than Lovino was an optimist.  
And the best of the week’s planing was coming closer: selections.  
He haven’t decided what to do about it. Feliciano was set on trying. Lovino would have prefer to start ballet before playing with that team. But as the minutes run by, Lovino just wanted to go back on the pitch and do the only thing he likes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I am not going to do it," I said out loud arms full of opened tomato cans. Everyone turned to me surprised. I frowned looking at my friends, maybe it was a bit late. In a weird turn of event, I had spend the night turning in his bed.

"Sorry?"

It could not continue like that. I didn’t want to have to interact with the Italian but letting and helping even a little my friends play an awful joke on Lovino was different. I tried to explain to Lovino that he was mistaken, I couldn’t just go and prove him that he was right! "We are not doing it now. It is not funny, it's bullying."

"What? Why?" grumbled Gilbert. "Are you crazy?"

"Why? Because I am vice-captain," said Antonio. "If you are going to refuse my decisions, I'll have to talk to coach."

"Really?" Jack sneered back at me.

"What?" I shouted. "I am the vice-captain. I have a team to get to the champion's cup and you are wondering first of all, why you should listen to me? Secondly have you thought about the risk of all being throw out of school and missing training? Finally you really don't see the problem of bullying another player of the future team?"

Antonio stood his ground. "I am the vice captain, and you will stop it otherwise you are out of my team."

Gilbert and Jack looked to the floor. Francis wearing an blank smile on his face.

"We need cohesion," he continued feeling guilty trying to push reason behind my feelings. "I don't ask you to be his friends, but please, I have enough problems already than the team is fighting from inside."

"Okay, but he also have to make effort you know!" agreed Gil. "Talk to him! If he insult one more time my awesomeness and I destroy him."

"And if he can stop glaring at us," added Jack.

"Yeah that too."

I rolled my eyes. "One thing at a time. But you need to talk to him, and apologise for bullying him." Jack huffed and leave.

"It is not bullying," whispered Gilbert. "We just wanted to joke around."

"He won't see it like that," said Francis.

Gilbert grimaced. "Jack seem more upset now though."

"We need to keep an eye on him," agreed Francis. "I heard his family was having some issue. I bet divorce."

"What are we doing of them now?" asked Gilbert pointing the tomatoes cans.

"What about we put it on Elisabeth's locker?" wondered Antonio.

Gilbert bounced up and down. "God, yes!" he urged. "I never got back to her for pouring her Coke on me!"

The trio all turned ready to walked to the known third floor toward the notorious tennis captain. She had a hell of a left swing but the trio never backed down from a good fight. It was like a Derby. War going on since elementary school.

Lovino arrived in the corridor and stood still with a blank face when he saw us. He was quite beautiful if Antonio had anything to say. Quite casual and if his frown disappeared, he would be getting a lots of girls. His hair were tossed around, eyes sharp and unimpressed. He looked at me specifically and I was not sure how to move. So I smiled widely like I usually do.

He frowned looked at my left and right before looking back at me suspicious. Soon enough I realise I was holding cans of tomatoes in the middle of school. And I smiled wider trying to act cool. Slowly he came closer to us, opening his locker, still glaring, got a book in and one out. He closed it and I was hanging by a thread. Gilbert was dead silent glancing at me.

"Hey!" I said trying not to look guilty at all. "How are-"

"Please, don't." He drawled with much distaste hands up in surrender. "I don't have time for losers." He rolled his eyes and was going to walk away.

"See that's exactly what I am talking about!" shouted Gilbert grabbing Lovino's wrist. Lovino barely had the time to shout than someone cut in.

"Excuse me?" and no one could sound quite so self-righteous and on its last thread of patience at the same time. The Austrian student appeared behind Lovino. "What is going on?”

"None of your business," hissed Gilbert.

"What are those?" Roderick asked pushing his glasses back looking straight at Antonio.

"Mmm," wondered Gilbert. "Still not your business."

Francis was going to interpose when the Austrian student continued. "I know you are still pissed that Elisabeth and I are-," Tomato's can splashed on the class representative, four years in a row head of chess and music society.

Everybody stood still for a second, Roderick not believing what just happened, tomato sauce slowly dripping from his hair to his glasses to the floor. Gilbert was smirking not at all feeling guilty of the situation still holding the can.

Lovino was still not impressed. "Wow," he said looking at Roderick closer. "That was so childish."

"Antonio!" shouted Gilbert pointing at the Italian and Francis hold him back in time before another can was send flying.

Antonio sighed scratching his head, Roderick could wait. "Lovino, if you want to be in the team, you have to be less rude."

"Say the ones who just attack the school straight A student,” he murmured. Roderick had started to silently sob looking at his shirt soaked in red juice. “And I thought you said you’ll stay out of it?”

“I’m trying! But you have to stop insulting other students, Lovino." Said Antonio ignoring him. "I won't stop them from picking up fight with you if you can't hold your temper."

Lovino stepped closer. "You think you can scare me? You think you can threaten me?"

Antonio did not move, keeping his eyes locked in his.

"So? What can you do?" Lovino wondered out loud. "Hit me?" his fingers trailed on Antonio's arm up to the tomato cans but the vice-captain could neither move or look somewhere else that his eyes. He could almost see, almost touch it. It was all fake. Lovino continued. “Are you going to attack me with tomatoes cans?" he smirked.

Antonio was not sure how to answer and the hesitation was all the Italian needed to throw one at his face. Antonio stepped back in surprise grabbing the other's hand in a reflex. The cans all fell on the floor in a loud bang.

Lovino winced, pulling harder away. "Let me go!" he screamed, his other hand coming to scratched Antonio's hand of. "Let me go!" Lovino tried to get away and Antonio's gripped slipped to his fingers because of the tomato sauce, he let the Italian fall down. Lovino ran off.

Okay… that went really wrong.

"Bitch," murmured Gilbert. "Really hopes he is still really good at football or I might kill him."

 

 

* * *

 

 

I ran to the bathroom. There was two guys, younger than me, chatting. "Everybody get out!" I shouted and they listened.

I closed the door. I was okay, I repeated. I opened the water hoping that it would wash the blood away and the memories. No, no it was not blood. It was tomato, it was only tomato juice, I repeated to myself staring at the water running down my fingers. The red liquid diluted into the sink like a pink sirup.

And the next second, there was blood everywhere, pouring on the tap, on the floor. I could not breath. The walls moved. I looked down, my jeans were wet, soaked in blood. I closed my eyes wishing for it to go away, repeating in silence, it is not blood. It is _not_ Blood. But it was just worst, I could feel my fingers smashed on the metal. Bones breaking out of the skin, the noise of each hits breaking them. Images would not leaving and I could not breath. I winced. Pain was running in my arms to my shoulders.

It was burning. I opened my eyes and jumped away getting my hands off the boiling water pouring from the tap. Breathless, I was back. The bell rang. I could hear the school chattering, the cars, people walking. I was at school again. I dragged my eyes back to the mirror. I looked terrible. What was going on? I wondered looking at me like there must be something on my face telling me if I was going crazy.

It never happens when I am awake. I did have dreams about the incident but never awake. Was I going crazy? I did not even feel the need to cry but the tears were there. I could not look at my fingers again because of the vague, phantom idea that it could be real. I frowned. Come on, Roma, I told myself, Feliciano is doing fine, why not you? I breathed in still shaking.

I looked down.

Everything was normal some red sauce still hidden in the corners and under my nail. I never felt so relieved. Tears dripped down on the sink this time not from pain but fear. I was going crazy. I moved my fingers slowly, checking there was nothing wrong. Great, I open the tap for cold water finishing to clean up. It can not let it get to me. I splashed my face of water closing my eyes. A door opened behind me. Then I realised there was someone in the bathroom. Jumping aside the moment I turned around.

"Hey," murmured the blond student so small and confused, getting out of the toilet. "Sorry." He continued on the same voice level running out of the room.  
Who was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the Kudos! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	6. Crazy

 

I let Gilbert try to clean most of the tomato off the floor while Francis got Roderick to the bathroom. I did not want to follow Lovino by running after him, it was creepy and I am not creepy.

I lost him in the staircase.

The bell rang and everyone diluted. In the end, I ran late to the changing room some people wanted to know why the tomato sauce. I struggled to find an answer. Some laughed and said I was just too funny. "Is it for tryouts?" they asked. Others cheered. They wished me good luck for the tryouts on saturday or told me they thought the principal was an idiot to give us detention. Being popular can be quite a job.

Result: there was no free changing room, nor empty lockers. I washed of the tomato in a flash. Finally, I ran outside almost slipping on the wet tiles, making everyone laugh and the teacher glare. I smirked, winked and everyone beamed at me. Belle stepped forward worried about me making high pitch noises that were supposed to be cute.

Groups were made from "Help me I'm drowning" to "I'm competing for the next Olympics game". The swimming team already took a line apart from the others. Nothing to be jealous about, the football team members were usually good, compare to the dead weight of the rugby team.

I turned around looking at my line. I was with Francis and Jack. The Italians were whispering. Lovino menacing darkly his brother, it would seem. He didn’t seem too traumatise. Should I still apologise to him? He was not going to to show up at tryouts now. Maybe I need to give him a last chance? Why are they all making my life so difficult?

I almost caught myself staring at them. I tried to look above the fact that I wanted to punch the Italian in the face for the tomato juice. I breathed in.  
They were cute together. Feliciano sure was cuter but too much, you know? He was glowing in his Italian flagged short. But Lovino looked more thoughtful, maybe tired too and defiantly more interesting. They played opposite and that catch my attention now. Feliciano was jumping around, smiling too widely, being to noisy, being too happy. Lovino was rude, short tempered and threatening. Both trying to hide something in their own ways. Lovino was definitely drained by it faster than his twin. The question of even having them in the team started to become more and more relevant but it will have to wait for saturday afternoon. At the tryouts. Francis, next to me, followed my stare. I was going to walk to them, when something block my view.

"So, what do you think?" Belle asked opening her arms wide. I looked above her shoulder shrugging.

"About?" I asked crossing my arm. I was getting tired too. Francis elbowed me. I looked down at her and the swimsuit covered of tulips she was wearing. "Oh! That's so cute!" I exclaimed and Francis sighted. "Be careful being adorable like that and boys will jump on you!"

She pouted. I frowned. Francis smirked before walking away slowly. Belle stood still, looking at me in disbelief. I was not sure what was the issue, so I smiled wider. Before anything could go worst the teacher ordered groups to start swimming.

Gil started telling me about this video game he wants and how cute was his baby chicken last night, absolutely ignoring Elisabeth whose friends was restraining her from jumping on him. Roderick was still at the infirmary, apparently.

Great, now, I needed to apologise to Lovino and Roderick now, but I could not just ignore the fact that I still need to finish my Math’s homework before lunch break.

 

2 hours after, soaked wet and dead tired everyone got out of the swimming pool to the shower like a horde of zombies. Feliciano was apparently not tired enough and running up and down the aisle, giggling. If he shows that much energy on the pitch, Antonio could quite believe he would do an amazing player. Lovino just made it its mission to become invisible.

"What did he say?" whispered Gil getting the gossip of why Belle was so upset.

"Cute, adorable,” said Francis rolling his eyes still naked. "I thought she was going to slap him."

"Do you think she is more upset that he is staring at Tomato Vargas all day long, wondering about his secret life or that he still thinks she is his little sister," Gilbert smirked, I was going to regret to even saying anything but I stopped Gil.

"I did not stare at him or wonder about him all day, it's just there is something weird about them. Do we even know why they came to this school? And I know," I said putting my t-shirt on. "She is not my little sister."

The duo shared a look of indecent disbelief. I was going to complain some more, defending my lost case when the teacher called out, asking everyone out. Let’s focus, lunch break, finishing this Math exercises. I was going to go crazy before the end of the day if things do not calm down.

 

 

* * *

POV: Lovino

 

I couldn’t believe the sport teacher said he was disappointed. What can he be disappointed of? I have not drown. Should be enough, no? Isn’t that all swimming classes are about?

Mentally complaining, I tripped fell face first in the staircase. Great. Sometimes the world just knows what you need. I got up like nothing special happened and made my way between the giggling students.  
Idiots.

I wished I could make it back to the apartment; now that I saw the shitty path this day was taking. Plus, I realised it was only the beginning. Great. As I walked up still dripping of that chlorine smelly water, I had no more expectations for this day. The most difficult aspect of it, was what to do of the time left locked up between those walls.

I guessed it can always be worst. In fact I did not have to guess, I knew how worst it could be. How can I even complain? No one was actively trying to kill us, I was not bleeding to death, Feliciano was having a quite okay day. I was just tired. I needed more sleep.

I looked back at my hands. The "tomato is blood" episode had completely drained me of all energy. I was trying so hard and all the world did was adding to it. I breathed in.

What if it started again?

What if I was going crazy?

It could not happen. Not now. Feliciano needed me, I needed to be clear minded. Nobody was going to help us. I could not go crazy.

I pushed the ghosts away. I just need sleep. It was their fault anyway. The football team. Why was the Spanish guy always in my way? I'll play football, I said I would so what is their problem? They possibly had no idea of what they did but what the fuck were they doing with tomato cans anyway?

The small voice came back with the same song: How can you even complain? I coughed getting this feeling off my throat. At least trying.

I shut my eyes, headache hammering my vision.

I walked up and I did not expect the football idiot trio to be in front of my fucking classroom. I wanted to cry, go back to the bloody bathroom. I took a large breath. Fuck them.  
What did they want now?

It was too late to go back, anyway, they saw me. The spanish student smiled, it was so large. You could see it reach all of his soul. He was just so happy, and it kills me. Feliciano used to smile like that. When I realised I was staring, my eyes ran to the floor, my face burning.  
I was not going to let myself be bullied by some high school jocks for God sakes! Punching them wouldn’t help my case, not when the school could just throw me out for hurting their best players. I might be going crazy and walking on thin ice between Nonno and the school board but I was not going to let them get away with this. If they wanted war, they will have it.

If I was not killing anyone before the end of the week, I swear I'll stop by the Church.

 

* * *

 

 

10 minutes earlier:

 

"Hey coach!" I shouted passing in front of his office. Heracles looked up from his desk and I knew I fucked up. A bottle laying half empty on the table while he was typing on his phone, he seemed on the edge of explode in the room. "Sorry! Bye!" I replied moving away as fast as possible.

"What's wrong with the coach today?” I whispered the moment I got to the rest of the trio.

"Heracles?" Francis wondered. Yeah… It was Heracles for Francis after an apparently short but passionate love affair between the two of them, then Francis left and had gone running after some exchange student from Finland or Sweden. Only to discovered he was married to another in Sweden. And there was this dog, I think it was theirs? To be honest I could not remember well.

"Something is wrong?" asked Gilbert, half-concerned since he was more worried about the death threats Elizabeth had been making to him throughout the morning classes. "More like is anything ever right with him?"

"He went back to drinking?" I wondered.

And Francis just stood there, smiling rolling his cigarette. "Well," he said. "Do you remember Sadig?"

Who does not? I sighted getting ready for the gossip. Everybody remembers Sadig. He basically fucked or fucked up everyone here. The director had to finally throw him out after the police arrested him for holding one of the largest drug traffic of the city. Though he was an amazing Math teacher, no one could deny that. Terrifying but amazing. Francis always said he is too intelligent for his own good.

"He has been seeing Heracles," continued Francis, stopping to lick the skin of the cigarette. "All summer."

We all silently thought it through. That was bad, they are trying to get the best out of the year and all the coach do is fucking around.

"Confiscated,” Singsonged Arthur grabbing the cigarette away from Francis holding it out to Elizabeth who just materialised next to them. She grabbed it holding Gilbert’s stare and crushed the tobacco stick with one hand.

"You will suffer," she growled. Before walking away she emptied what was left of it in Gilbert's face. Francis was too busy eye-fucking Arthur to even worry. Arthur grinned slowly walking away. Even for me it was too weird to understand the thrill they got from bickering all the time.

Gilbert turned around to shout after the tennis captain, only once she was far away enough, "What? Did I hurt your the little princess, Elisabeth?"

I rolled my eyes, thanking God we did not to had the time to trick Elisabeth's locker this morning. We arrived finally at the classroom.  
And Lovino walked in again. The Italian's hair still dripping of water walking toward us. He looked confused to see us here, and maybe a bit upset. Maybe was he was coming to talk it out! Telling them football wasn’t his thing anymore? A boy can dream.

"He is coming toward us?” I mumbled.

Gilbert and Francis shrugged as I was totally not losing my cool. We could not apologise in front of the others. They could make things worst. I did not need anyone more to add to our chances of fucking up. He continued walking looking straight at me in deep thought. I smiled, and like he had not seen me before looked up to my eyes in surprise. He stopped few feet away blushing furiously or was he just furious? His eyes turned to each of my side and it caught my curiosity. Gilbert was smirking and Francis smiling with this own personal maniac charm (he thought it was threatening).

"What's your problem bastards?" he asked voice iced cold.

Francis was having his pervert face. This was bad. "Re-Bonjour, we still have some tomato can if you are interest."

"Listen up, Frenchy," he threatened. It was quite cute. "Fuck you. And regarding you two," he said glancing at Gilbert and I. I tried my best to smile. "Fuck off."

It was going to get out of hand but Ludwig passed by behind us, signalling to get into our classroom and everyone calmed down like children during christmas evening. I had never been more happy to see him.

“We’ll continue this discussion later,” growled Gilbert before entering the classroom. Francis left to, soon letting me alone facing the angry italian. Why was he standing in front of me? Doesn't he have places to go?

"What's your problem?" Lovino sighted looking at my face with some disinterested confusion. Like wondering if there was someone there at all.

And all I could wonder was, why wasn’t I furious? It would take much less for me to lose my cool. But I just kept staring at the idiot hoping he would see the bloody thin ice he was on.

“You don’t want to start a war with us,” I said and what I really to say should have been more along the lines of I really don’t want to fight you for some unknown reason?!

He pushed some of his bang away of his eyes trying to lock them behind his ear. It was too long wet. My fingers ached doing it again they fall back into place or at least ruffle them. He was wearing a large black sweater and his hair were still humid. One of the joy of swimming pool in the morning. I had this weird certitude he probably looks like that on sunday evening. After a match, just lazily walking around in large clothes and unkept hair, probably laying in front of television. And I completely lost the path of the conversation.

"Look, I'm tired,” he said with a great amount of boredom. “So, just hit me, or throw some tomato juice… I don't care, I just want get to my classroom so I can sleep.”

I looked behind me. There was a classroom. The classroom. My heart started racing, why was I such as idiot? I stepped aside and started to apologise in a mixed of words, like "I have it too! Jajaja I was on the way! And I would never hit you! Why would I? AhAH-"

"Whatever idiot," he mumbled stomping into the classroom.

Francis and Gilbert were near the front row both watching us intensely while setting up their books. And I knew something was wrong. I walked up to Francis who looked quite sceptic to confirm my fears. "Did I just mumbled Spanish?" I asked.

He closed his eyes nodded affirmatively sorry. Why was I acting like a stupid teenage girl with a crush?

 

Wait…

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Thursday arrived and detention official ended. Few minutes in the room and Coach had shown up and gotten them off, ending the detentions. Everybody took it as a blessing as the tension had only risen since the incident. Football tryouts were this weekend and the Coach wanted them to make amends.  
All it did for Antonio was make realise how close the tryouts were, and the friendly matches and the qualification and basically the end of the world. Before that though, they just have to live through that last class of the day. It was almost 3pm on wednesday and everyone’s patience was running low.

"But Madame," said again Gilbert lifting his hand. "What about Prussia?"

The first time the students always find it amusing. The second time acceptable, the third repetitive and everyone would giggle. Now it was at least the thirteenth time, most of the classroom growled, there was some pen flying in our direction.

The others ignored it, they had had history with Gilbert before just as Antonio and Francis did. The vice-captain looked around searching for the reaction of a certain Italian. Lovino was asleep on the table face hidden on his arm. At least Gilbert was keeping the teacher too busy for her to notice.

The teacher almost banged her head again the blackboard. "I don't know Gilbert," she sighted exhausted. "I don't know all the details concerning Prussia’s actions during the Sino-Russian war. Can we please go back on the subject?”

Gilbert stared at her with great disgust but did not push it. The classroom went back to it.

Francis leaned toward me. "What's going with the Italians?” he whispered. “Are we letting him get in the team? Are we waging war on them or what?”

“I don’t know…” sighted Antonio.

“Last time you were so confused was because of an awful crush,” commented Francis idly. “You are not crushing on the Italian? If it’s the case can’t you at least just choose Feliciano?”

Antonio looked back, at school it was no secret he was bisexual but the question was still making him wonder how many person actually knew. And how many judged him for it. He struggled looking for an answer. It was merely a crush frankly, for a bit of interest, it wasn’t his fault if he thought Lovino looked good right? We all have weakness… It was going to pass. It was stupid, they barely interacted. It didn’t matter, not as much as the team. Not as much as not fucking up Antonio’s life. Whatever interest in might have in the boy didn’t matter, they could bully him how much they want after the selections.

“Antonio?”

"I think once we settle if he can play football or not, I’ll know. I’m not going to waste our chance at the championship,” he said in a shaky breath.

Francis scanned his face, his eyes running on Antonio’s face. “It’s really stressing you out...”

“No, shit.”

“Will know soon enough,” assured Francis.

“I mean we’re not even sure they’ll show up!” hissed Antonio.

Ivan rose his hand. Everybody stopped moving.

"Yes?" asked the teacher, innocent, not really looking.

"I'm not liking how to talk about the Empire of Russia.”

"Well," she hesitated feeling the silence fall on the classroom. "Firstly, it is not an empire anymore-“ She froze up in the middle of the talk and no one dare to breath. "Read pages 12 to 15, the class is dismissed." She started packing her stuff and ran off as did the rest of the students.

“Hey!” called out Francis seeing the Italian walk past.

“Francis! Tonio!” smiled Feliciano forcing his brother to a stop.

“You coming to Tryouts?” asked Francis all smiles.

“Yeah!” giggled Feliciano. “I can’t wait! Lovino neither!”

I glanced at the brother. Lovino seemed as surprised as us. Francis rose his eyebrows turning to him, pulling on own of his blond strands. “Are you really?” he asked which was clearly a warning.

“Maybe once I kick you ass at football you’re all stop being such a pain,” smirked Lovino. “Though I doubt it.”

Francis choked and I could just stare. “Lovino,” I tried to reason him. “Just let it go.”

Feliciano seemed confused looking back and forth between the two.

“Do you really think I’ll let Feliciano alone with you?” laughed the italian.

Feliciano joined in the laughter and push his brother out with a small “sorry~!”

Well, Saturday promised to be interesting.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much of the kudos!!! Hope you'll like this chapter!


	7. Selections

It was tomorrow.

Antonio fiddled with the cigarette as Francis rearranged his hair. He had ignored it all morning but as he stepped in the school premise that all he could think of. The tryouts were at 1pm tomorrow and Antonio didn’t believe he was going to last that long. Nothing he could tell himself worked. Maybe he got slow during summer? Maybe he’ll trip and get hurt?

He threw the end of the cigarette down, Francis looking at Arthur’s face waiting for a comment which it didn’t came. But Antonio couldn’t care less. His father had call last night, thinking the selection was today, and least he could wish him good luck before it started. He didn’t seem worried, he had better things to be worried about. Like the Market, or the whatever the hell he was on about these days.

Everyone was going with theirs days, whispering about tomorrow afternoon. The first classes dragged on and on, lunch was morbid. Nobody tried to mess with the Italians and that was telling. Arthur barely engaging conversation with Francis. It was almost too calm. Gilbert continuously rambling about history and Francis explaining he was going on a date to de-stress.  
By the time 1pm on Saturday happened, Antonio just wanted it over with.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The sun was well on its way to heat up the pitch. Everyone had been meeting around the school pitch, chatting with old friends, sharing summer's stories, waiting for the selection to start. Everyone was playing nice but Antonio could feel the suspicious glances thrown at him once in a while, like ice against his neck.  
The rest of the competition arrived, Antonio kept cool laughing loudly with his friends. They did not have much to worry about, he repeated to himself. They did amazing last year, Ludwig won't change much of the team.

The real pressure was on the others, the ones always moving between the pitch and the bench, between anonymity and glory. They were the only threat to Antonio’s game. They knew the feeling of making the perfect move, perfect combination that allowed your team win under the weight of exhaustion, they had nothing to lose. They might have heard the public cheering and shouting their name, but they were not part of the team yet. They didn’t know how it felt to lose together nor win.  
Antonio knew most of them. He glanced at the Italians. They were the only ones he had no idea where they stand. Should he be worried for his place? Feliciano seemed to happy-goody to play attack, but at the same time all that enthusiasm could be the fire pushing him to the goal. Lovino didn’t look anything but aggrieved at the idea of playing, arms crossed and glaring. They had arrived 10minutes early, Feliciano dragging his brother like a thirty kilo tomato bag behind me.

Ludwig finally arrived a little copy book in hand and squared shoulders.

"Let's go!" Shouted Gilbert stomping on the pitch, his shoes tearing the grass and mixing it with the mud. "It's going to be awesome!"

Ludwig glared at his brother but didn’t comment, instead he got right into it, "10minutes run to warm up, then we'll get to it,” he shouted almost succeeding into killing the general enthusiasm. Everybody complied without too much complaints letting the bottles of water fall down and waving "later" to their friends cheering. Belle was too there smiling and waving at Antonio.

It wasn’t the case for Gilbert. “10min?!” he whined. “How about just 5?”

“How about 15?” growled Ludwig and as Gilbert opened his mouth he cut him short, “20min.”

Lovino turned to look at coach Karpusi in surprise. The coach was sleeping face against a bench. Teachers party more than student apparently, Antonio promised to everyone they’ll fix that tonight.  
The Italian brothers started whispering. No one must have told them that the coach was so lousy. Even Roderick was more involved and he did never showed up for morning trainings.

Nobody remembered why or how Ludwig took over the job but nobody complained. He always good at catching the attention of the players and had this way of ordering people around that nobody ever dare to contradict. Since he took the position, he ruled the team with a fist of iron.

“Sorry I’m late!” shouted Francis jogging toward Antonio. He was wearing his all black, allegedly tailored sport wear, (Can this things even be tailored? It was just to small and therefore modelling his body) and a little bun on his head holding his hair in place. He was quite a sight on the pitch and the small group of students, who came to hang out a bit with their friends, were not disappointed. He smirked and waved at someone, probably his latest conquest. Arthur rolled his eyes but did not say anything, everyone was boiling in excitement. 

Some groups already forming following into the usual training. Antonio smiled, it was almost familiar. He would ran with Gilbert. Francis would be behind with the Swiss guy and Arthur not wanting to break too much sweat while allowing them to bicker.  
Antonio squinted his eyes as Li ran up to their group in a sprint, not even breathless, apparently he did not lose any stamina during the holidays. Li and the Japanese student, Kiku, would always try to out run each others, like some kind of competition.

"Jack wants to sabotage the Italians," Li murmured. Antonio raised an eyebrows and looked out for Jack. He was with Arthur's group, whispering. If Antonio could have stop and punch the guy in the face he would. But he was working on it. Working on not resolving problems with violence, but some days, it was like the world knew he was holding his breath and would do anything to make him give in.

"I thought I was clear enough," Antonio grumbled. Gilbert stayed cold silent only sharing a glance. Li shrugged and ran up to the front scaring to death the Japanese.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"I can't believe the Potato Bastard is in charge,” Lovino growled in Italian to Feli. After running an unhealthy amount of time for no better reason than Potato Bastard number two could not shut up, they stopped for stretching while the three idiots played with their water. Children.

“Can you believe it? Really how do they even get such high scores in the competition with an alcoholic coach and four years old players? Does the federation knows? I mean I would like to know who legal this is. I don't obey to potatoes eaters! They don't even know how to play!"

Feliciano was not looking at me but at the German bastard number 1 doing some stretching like he just run for half an hour, instead of watching us do it.

"Feli! Are you listening?"

He turned to me, eyes leaving his body.

"Germany did great at Euro cup and world cup a few years back,” said Feliciano off hand with little sparkles in his eyes. "They have good teams too, as much as you like to forget it. And they don't have to buy referees for that."

Lovino jumped aside stung. "Saying that to your own Brother!?" he whined before coming back to him. "There was no proof Juventus did it anyway. It's just Parma loser's rumours."

"I think Ludwig is nice." Feliciano said dreamily not interest to go back to that argument they had too many times.

"Bullshit," His brother growled before realising. "It's Ludwig now?"

"Well, that’s his name and I was not going to call our coach, Potato Bastard, Lovino…” he pouted like Lovino was the one being irrational. "He even gave me his phone number!"

"What?!" He shouted. “When did that happen?!”

"It's fine Lovino!" he drawled with his idiotically naive smile. "We’re just texting."

"We are leaving!" Lovino shouted grabbing his wrist.

"Don't be a Drama Queen," Feliciano sighted, sitting down in the grass to work on his calf. "Don't you want to get in the team?"

"Oh… I see.” Laughed his brother, before bending over to reach for his toes. "So, you're just securing place in the team. Nicely played frattello."

"What! No?! I-" he hesitated, picking at some white flowers around him. "I just think he’s nice."

"Oh, no…" Lovino murmured and stopped stretching to have a closer look at the matter in hand. "You aren’t having a crush?"

"Lovino! Come on! Me?" he giggled turning red. "No!"

"I'm going to kill him."

"Lovino! It's only our second week! I'm sure he doesn’t even like me."

"Feli. Everybody likes you," he said glaring at the Potato bastard. "Everybody." Feliciano giggled a bit while Lovino hold him close petting his head. "But don't worry, I'm here."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ludwig had set up some drills. Nothing out of the ordinary and to be honest Antonio didn’t like any of them. It asked for control, calm, and focus. It just sucked out all the fun out of football.

Gilbert loved them and tried to speed through the first one. It only worked as long as luck followed but he was by far the best and set the record as usual. Some bystanders clapped, leaving Ludwig with a content smile.

“So that’s how you do it,” smirked Gilbert, full of himself, maybe a be more pronounced when he looked over the italians. “Aren’t I awesome?”

Francis did it with ease, he was all about fluidity. Kiku and Matthew followed Francis steps and got away with it all. Jack and Antonio were up next and it went down as well as you can excepted.  
Antonio hated this few minutes before playing. While you play you are not thinking about the weight or people watching, you are playing your game, doing your job, doing everything you can but now there was nothing to do but drown into the prospect of it. What if he did not train enough this summer? What if he tripped? Football was in his soul, what if he could not make it into the team? Or vice-captain? Even more egoistically, what if someone played better than him and he gets replaced?  
So he went into it with force and a little speed. People cheered as he ended up at the other side without a cone down. Antonio waved at them, happy they didn’t catch on how hard it had been for him not to trip over himself. Francis congratulated him and he answered with that stupid smile.

It was the italians turns. Feliciano giggled as he got his feet caught in one of the cone, apparently very much relaxed at playing. Ludwig seemed unimpressed as Feliciano came over to apologise.

Lovino looked much more stern as he stepped foward, he barely looked at Ludwig just waiting for the whistle.

“I can’t promise I won’t laugh when he trips,” whispered Jack and Gilbert chuckled.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead he destroyed the time. Nobody dared to comment, as silence steep through the pitch. That he didn’t fail why not, but destroyed Gil’s record by more than 5seconds. Feliciano jumping in his brother’s arm congratulating him. Antonio felt terrible, why couldn’t he be immensely average at it? Ludwig was smiling and as if anything could be worst, Lovino’s smug smile was directed at Gil almost daring him to repeated what he said earlier.

Antonio and Francis did not wait to grab Gil’s arms to hold their friend back.

“It’s just luck, beginner’s luck,” Antonio whispered glaring at the Italian.

So they wished. Somehow Lovino destroyed each one of the drills. It was insane, and Antonio would be lying if he didn’t find it super hot. Nobody managed that before.

“What happened to your awesomeness?” Lovino whispered passing Gilbert on the 5th one taunting him to react.

Li wasn’t fast enough to catch Gil who throw himself at the Italian sending them both rolling in the grass. It took Ivan to separate them.

The last drill was a relief, much more down Antonio’s aisle. By then nobody seemed to care about their own results. The trio was being dragged through mud by the new kid. Photos were involved and Antonio would have bet his vice-captain title that someone was live tweeting about it, if he wasn’t actually scared of losing it.  
So yeah, the last drill was luckily enough the only thing Antonio was sure of. The last drill was a simple, classic direct shot to the goal, with Ivan and other guardians trying themselves at stopping the ball. Antonio smirked knowing very well it was going to go just fine, for a few reasons; He had the highest rates of success at it from all schools of the area, and there was no way anyone could mark when up against Ivan.

Jack went first, they all had three tries. Two went in, the other wasn’t centred. Lovino didn’t say anything. Everyone cheered half heartily.

Feliciano tried, nothing much came up to it, all centred, precise but not good enough, he obliviously never really played attack.

Antonio’s turn arrived too soon. He could feel Lovino’s eyes on him. He had to focus, and clearly this wasn’t his strong suit. Ivan smirked at him. They had played and trained together for too long to actually feel stressed out about this. The only thing was to outsmart the Russian student and not let the stress get to him. That he could do, like a normal game.  
The first one went in directly, Ivan barely had time to move. Belle cheered on the sidelines. It felt great, it felt right. The two other shots went in without him breaking a sweat. Ludwig barely looked up, he wasn’t surprised and just wanted those trials over with.

Lovino walked up, unsure of his position, changing his footing a few times. Ivan didn’t move eyes focused on the small Italian. Gilbert started cheering, for Ivan before being shushed by Mathew standing next to him. The first one was centred never got in. Ivan rose his eyebrows apparently surprised at such a bad hit. Lovino didn’t say anything but his brother shouted a bit of encouragement or at least that what the other assumed since it was in Italian. The second one was the same mess, Ivan stopped it easily. Gilbert whistled, high-fiving everyone willing and close enough to him.  
The last one almost passed through Ivan’s hand as the ball curved at the end but it just hit the goal post. Gilbert cheered and it was like nothing that happened before mattered running to their small public like they just won the final. Feliciano tapped his brother on the back who just shrugged. Nothing out of the ordinary for them apparently. Lovino wasn’t the best it was official, what a relief, he did not destroy the trio’s monopoly on football. Law and order had returned to the pitch. Antonio didn’t feel like celebrating, the italians were good, they will have to deal with them this year and the way Ludwig looked he probably thought the same.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Let’s play a few games," proposed Ludwig stopping everyone’s nervous break down after the legendary face off.

Antonio glanced at the italian brothers. Lovino seemed confidant and calm almost bored while silently listening to his brother's ramblings. Feliciano was clearly excited of the prospect to play, talking senselessly.

Some people whispered waiting for Ludwig to create the teams. Roderick had arrived, his glasses pushed up as he read Ludwig’s notes ignoring the other players.

They were few minutes away from starting now. Lovino did not look around like it did not matter for them, after all they never played with any of them. It did not matter for them who was going to be in their teams.  
Francis walked up to me, now his hair in a ponytail now, still panting.

"Excited to see your crush play? I mean, now that we know for sure he is part of the team now, with that foot work… we can call it a crush?” he said now official making fun of it.

The bitch, thought Antonio. He was always getting quite obsessed with some new student every year, there had been Roderick, some other exchange students from South America, but saying that Lovino was one of them, was a bit quick.

"He isn’t my crush.” Antonio lied and went to drink some water ignoring Francis.

Francis rolled his eyes waiting for Gilbert to arrive. "What did he say?" asked Gil.

"That he isn’t crushing on Tomato Vargas,” answered Francis off hand walking away already. Gilbert laughed out following Francis. Antonio ran after them.

“Can we just call it like that?” whined Antonio. Why was his best friends always teasing him? Weren't they suppose to support him?

“And what would you prefer?” teased Gil.

The blond player that no one remember his name, possibly american, passed them to get to his side of the pitch, playing defence today as it seems. He glanced at us, Gilbert looked away. It was adorably awkward and Antonio smirked.

"So should we talk about what's his name… Mathew?" teased Antonio.

"Who?" asked Francis frowning but Gilbert stayed silence glaring.

"Is he your crush this year?” he asked teasingly. "I'm sure he forgot about the Canary incident." It was ironic, no one would ever forget. Francis was laughing now.

Ludwig was still calling out names when he was abruptly cut off.

"Hey, Tomato Vargas!" shouted Jack, Gilbert giggling. “Do you really think you can play with us?"

It almost sounded like a threat. Ludwig shouted something as Antonio grabbed his friend's elbow. “Drop it."

Jack turned to him, "What's wrong with you?"

“He’s good!" Antonio hissed, eyes trailing on the Italians. Lovino seemed as surprised as the rest, before walking away to take his position on the pitch. "We have to be at least in the top 5 this year. We might need him."

"We are just joking!" said Jack getting his elbow free. "It never hurts anyone to joke a bit! What happen during the holidays? Did you lose all your fun?"

"What? It's not what this’s about!" Antonio shouted grabbing Jack’s arm again, tugging him closer. Jack shouted to let go but he needed to understand.

"Find yourself a girlfriend for God's sake! Stop being so boring!” he growled shoving away Antonio.

Gilbert sighted, shouldering Antonio to follow Jack. Antonio’s hand felt empty and his head’s spinning. It felt awfully like a fight, and it was bad. He tried to control it but he just really wanted to make Jack regret it. Antonio stood on the pitch, frowning. Francis was watching carefully saying nothing.

“Hey! Dream team! Take position," shouted Ludwig full of sarcasm. The duo nodded apologetically.

"Relax," whispered Francis. "You will do fine, like always." Antonio smiled widely. "Anyway, look out for Jack."

A good advise but it was nothing Antonio did not already know.

 

 

* * *

 

POV: Antonio

 

The teams were quite fair. Gilbert and Francis were with Lovino on attack. It took Gilbert a lot of glaring from his brother to stop complaining. It was quite an intelligent move for Ludwig not to make them confront each others. Gilbert could not outward punch Lovino or the reverse. Surprisingly Lovino said nothing, unmoved by it even after Gilbert elbowed him as he was walking to the pitch to take his position.

Everyone could usual get along well enough to play. Jack and I were in the other team with Arthur and Feliciano who was more busy smiling sweetly at Ludwig than looking at the other players. That was quickly going to become a problem. Jack followed my stare. "If he’s good enough, he could always stick to Coach Assistant,” he smirked.

I did not answer, wishing for the game to start before I gave Jack a piece of my mind.

Ludwig started the game, with the reminder: "Play nice, guys. It's not worth to get wounded."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, others might worry he takes it out on Lovino but winning was more important for him. On the other hand, Jack never played fair anyway.

It started slow-paced with few passes, Lovino staying out of sight on the left wing. Arthur found a way in, I followed him. The game quickened. I received it, eating the last meters before the penalty area. Francis tackled me and I lost the ball, running after him in the classic counterattack panic. That’s what happens when you play against your friends, they know your game and weaknesses. I looked around; who could help Francis? Lovino was in the far back, Gilbert closer breaking in the defence.

"Feliciano, stay on Gil'!" I shouted to our defence still surprised of the overturn.

"Someone?" asked Francis finally looking around when Kiku blocked his way. Jack came out of nowhere stealing the ball. Fews passes, Kiku, Jack, then Arthur helped us turn the game around. We were running toward the goal again, few more meters. People started cheering.

Li crashed in, tackling Arthur. More like stomping Arthur's foot, if you wanted my opinion, they both fall. Ludwig let it play. Li didn't waste a second, took off running with the ball, neither did Arthur who got up chasing him. Complains disappeared once Li started to run past the mid-field, as players were to occupy in bring oxygen to their body than keeping up with shouting at Ludwig.

The pass was to Gilbert, but that when Lovino finally started to play. He ran up and cut the ball’s track. Still in midfield, he passed by Arthur easily who almost tripped on himself. I stopped, watching the Italian race up. He was as fast as during the drills.

"Antonio! Stop dreaming!" shouted Jack running after Lovino.

But it was too late, Feliciano and then Kiku, the last line of defence, were passed by easily and Lovino took the shot. The ball almost went in. It was kicked with too much precision, curved ball but no real force behind it. Everyone who had not stopped running, now slowed down and stared at him. Lovino stretched out like finishing his breakfast, not caring. Gilbert was laughing out-loud, this time not to mock him but completely dumbfound. Ivan, ice giant, stood still in front of the goal, the ball in hand trying to look like he didn’t almost missed it. Feliciano was beaming and threw an arm around his brother’s shoulders. Ludwig returned a smile.

"Can we actually play now?" wondered out loud Lovino walking passed Jack who was fuming.

"Don't get used to it!" he shouted before glaring at me.

Ludwig started the game again. Jack first, some other players, I followed and the rhythm quickened. I could see Lovino coming up to our left, and Gilbert on our right. We crashed into their defence. Jack got stuck with the Swiss and the one I can never remember the name.

Jack crossed the ball to me. I controlled it, looking for options and Lovino was in front of me.  
I dribbled, trying to go for the right. He blocked me like he could read minds, I looked up. He was entirely focused on the ball and my legs. He finally looked up to my eyes feeling my stare. He smirked, there was like fire in his amber's eyes. I could feel my adrenaline go up. I never saw him so alive and I was the one scared. I tried to escape on another side. I lost the ball. I barely see him ran passed me and I followed up, but with not much hope. Arthur could not do much neither. Gilbert and Francis stayed around him, in case he needed help. Apparently not, as Lovino took his mark and shoot again straight into the goalkeeper. Ivan stopped it without difficulties this time. He was not surprised.  
Lovino stretched out like finishing his breakfast, not caring. He did not appear annoyed and smirked at Ivan. I could hear Jack growling from behind.

"What's going on Antonio?" called out Ludwig in disbelieve. "Awake your team up!”

I smiled at Ludwig apologetically but Jack did not find it funny.

"What were you doing?" Ivan shouted to our defence. Feliciano was smiling proudly, trying though to act innocent. And that's when Jack lashed out.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he shouted at Feliciano, stomping toward him. "You did not even try to stop him! Is it because he is your Brother or are you just that bad at football?!"

I jumped between them putting my hand on Jack's chest. "Don't."

Gilbert caught Lovino with his arm, as he was running up toward Jack throwing Italian insults. Ludwig was moving up to them but Ivan beat him to it.

"Get out." He said and everybody froze. I looked at Ivan, he was usual dead, calm and serious. I was so relieved not be Captain. Jack bit his lips while Lovino was still arguing with Gilbert about how he should be allowed to beat him up, something to do about honour or such.

“This is not over,” threatened Jack.

Ludwig did not even have to say he agreed with Ivan. Jack pushed my hand away and walked off the pitch straight to the changing rooms. Everybody relaxed, public starting to whisper again. Feliciano was still, looking at his feet silently.

"Sorry," he murmured as I walked past him. I stopped. And I hesitated, looking at the others, Lovino and then back to the defence player.

"It's okay," I answered quietly. "You were doing great."

Feliciano looked up and smiled with such strength I almost fell back. "Thank you Captain!"

"I'm not-" but it was to late he already walked of to Lovino. "I'm just vice-captain." I finished glancing at them, Feliciano like a child, had his trouble forgotten, asking Lovino to chill.

Another game was starting. The last one. This time Gilbert actually passed the ball to Lovino, raising his eyebrows, taunting him to play it as a team. The italian stood still a second too surprised to move along. Arthur stopped him, I came up. It got tricky but the Italian actually lost the ball.

Passes were thrown around in mid-field in a nerve-wreaking Spanish game, too many passes, no one wanting to risk anything. Finally Gilbert broke it, passed to Lovino. He ran up the left wing, most of the player following up. Kiku was the only one close enough to Lovino to tackle him but he hesitated. Now it was too late, the Italian stopped next to the corner box and has the clams to hold the ball waiting for Gilbert to come around, dribbling seconds away, playing with Kiku’s nerves. Feliciano blocked Francis, but Gilbert sprint out of Li's reach. Lovino made a break and sent a killer cross shot to Gilbert. Ball got in, Goal! Ivan couldn’t stop it this time. People started cheering on the side lines and I smiled too because Gilbert seemed ecstatic.

Gilbert threw his arm above Lovino's shoulders laughing, saying something in his ear. Hate disappears so fast when the reasons are so unfounded. A shot of jealousy went through my spine but I don't say anything. Lovino only stared at Gilbert, a bit unease by the sudden contact.

Well, we’ll have new players this year. Roderick on the side lines was already taking notes for new tactics, combinations. This year was going to be great.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for the Kudos!! Hope this chapter was good enough, I'm terrible with action scenes... There are just so many things happening!  
> (Also, finally, a chapter with Football in it...)


	8. Five Minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you so much for the kudos and all!  
> Also, there'll be some underage drinking and mentions of self-harm in this chapter but nothing to graphic... I know it was already in the tags, but just to be safe!  
> Hope you like this chapter!

POV: Lovino Vargas

 

I put the letter in front of me, on the bed.

Okay, it was probably the worst idea, since… At least since, we got here.

The letter arrived again today. The blue ink and dirty paper showed up at our doorstep. It was the same address, same writing. We had come back to the apartment after the selections, and the letter was there again, on the floor, at my feet. I hold the door for Feliciano, he waltzed in still rambling and giggling. And I grabbed it. Feliciano crashed down heavily on the sofa complaining about being too sore to EVER move again. And I had just stood there, eyes glue to the letter. I just had to pick it up and drag it to the bedroom. Without thinking.

Now it was in front of me, looking at me, waiting for me to act upon it. Hell, curiosity was going to kill me, but the worry of going too far was on the back of my mind. I should not open the letter, I should not even have taken it. It wasn’t mine, this apartment was not even mine! It was not my home, I did not have the right to open open all the drawers, walking in all the rooms and certainly not to open all the letters. I remembered bitterly the way the policeman stared at me as he stood in the living room, like he knew I did not deserved to be here.

Last time I followed my instincts, last time I did what I thought was best, I ended up making the worst decision of my life. I breathed in, fear running in my blood, scared of what I already knew and of what I didn’t know, of what was carefully lay down on paper inside that letter.

It was probably nothing of interest. Right? Why do I get so worked up? I wondered and grabbed the edge of it realising my fingers were trembling.

It's not like there could be anything worst?

Okay, no.

I sat up, letting the letter fall carelessly. What was I doing? Didn’t I cause enough damages yet? I just need to get some sleep. Restless, I got up and decided on a hot boiling shower. All this summer drama did not let us with any time to play football, my body was sore all over.

But so it seems, shower did not help. There was like an itch on my skin, some anger locked in. I started scratching my wrist letting the water pour on down on my hair. Like I could still feel the tape, like the glue wouldn’t leave. It felt disgusting and I just couldn’t think about it. Why did it have to come to it?  
The day had gone okay! Surprisingly.  
We made it to the team. Feliciano was dancing in heaven, smiling like nothing had ever happened. The drills and matches were good, I just played, I did not have to think. I guess I’ll do it again. And yet, I had once more humiliated myself at the free kicks. We can't have everything, I guess?  
I did not really mind.

I was not feeling shameful of it.

It's not that I was sure to make it in the team anyway, but I could not get myself to care too much. It did not matter. Not really. Not like it used too. Thinking about something else than my biggest fuck up was a good change. Doing something we used to do and enjoy, was good? Why did that sound so cheesy?  
It should not be, not for me. I should not have even tried. For a moment everything was okay, and now we are just all back in reality and I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I escaped it when others would never have that chance.  
Pain shoot and I noticed blood under my nails.  
I scratched to blood, my wrist burning up. Fuck.

I washed everything off in a hurry. One “tomato juice” incident was enough for the week, or the month or the rest of the bloody year really. I really need to cut my nails and sleep.  
Sleep would be great.

Anyway, Feliciano was so happy. There was no faking there, and he kept on laughing and singing. It was nice. Though I would never confess to it. It would motivate him to never stop being loud.

I got out, put some gauze and clothes on. I came back in the room, putting on my headphones and froze. I wasn’t alone. The letter was still there. I could not move and just stood there watching it laying on my bed.

I was being bullied by a letter, amazing. In a rush of confidence, I decided; I was going to open it, I swore. Too bad for Nonno. I grabbed it decided to finish with it.

"Lovino!" shouted Feliciano. “Lovinooo!!!!”

I grumbled and tried to get the letter to fit under the night table as fast as possible.

"What?" I shouted hoping it will stop him from walking in, hearing his footsteps rushing to the bedroom.

Apparently not and my answer gave him the authorisation to barge in dressed in sparkly yellow and green. It was good on him but the mere sight of those colours would give anyone an headache. He jumped on the bed like he used to and hug me close.

I tried to escape without hurting him. "What's going on?" I hissed pushing one earpiece on the side of my head.

"Get ready!! We’re going to party!" he shouted overexcited.

I stopped faking and pushed him off me for real. "What?"

"The party at Yao's house!" He pouted letting go to lay across the bed.

"What?" I repeated.

"For the new selected team!" squealed Feliciano, arms thrown up into the air.

"What?"

"Stop repeating yourself, makes you sound stupid." He chided, poking my cheek.

"You haven't heard yourself," I murmured shoving his hands again.

He laughed elbowing me gently. “Whatever! Let's go!”

"I'm not," I announced glaring at the same time as I put my headphones back, in one swift motion.

Feliciano pouted trying to get it off my head. I fought back bravely and won. I laid back down on the bed like royalty as Feliciano retreated, beaten down and sadden. But the little devil grabbed my phone and the music stopped as he unplugged me.

"Give it back!" I shouted standing up suddenly, ready to chase him down.

“Then come with me to the party!”

"No."

"Please, come with me!"

"No."

"What else do you have to do?" whined Feliciano but something sad eyes caught my eyes. I diverted mine, shying away. Silent fell on the bedroom. I did not want to go there. Feliciano'd better not to go there.

"I'm worried for you," confessed Feli and I could not look at him, the trahitor. He went there.

"I'm fine," I assured him without proof but confidence. But there was no need for a law degree to know that it was negotiation tactics. Nothing would hold in court. Nothing was fine with me. He stared at me. "I'm fine," I repeated. "Anyway, it's not like Nonno will let us out, he will follow the police advise and keep us locked in."

"I already asked," sing-songed Feli. And I knew what was coming, I looked up as to warm up my eyes before they would undoubtedly rolled. “And they said yes!”

"Oh, surprise,” I said rolling my eyes.

Feliciano frowned and made his terribly sad face. It breaks hearts, I swear, the little devil.

"I just wanted everything to be normal for a day…" he confessed looking down at his hands. "And have some fun."

I swallowed a sight. "You can go if you want.”

"It's not the same without you!" he whined. And my broken heart got stomped on. The little devil. "I can't have fun, if you are here all alone, wallowing silently in pain."

"I don't wallow silently in pain," I answered back a bit offended. "I just enjoy quiet."

"You do wallow in pain," he maintained. I glared. "Please??”

I tore my eyes away from the little devil.

"Por favore, fratello?"

I closed my eyes regretting it already. "Okay. Okay!” I gave in. "Okay, get out then! I need to change!”

He beamed, jumping straight up with all the stars of the universe in his stupidly adorable little eyes. He did look like nothing happened in this moment. A smile creeped in. It was quite warm.

“Just, please, wear some colours," he whined, walking around the door like a diva.

"Get out." I shouted throwing my pillow at him, laughing.

Maybe things could get better.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

POV: Antonio Carriedo

 

Music blurring out the stereo could be heard from the streets. The moment I walked in Gilbert threw his arm around my shoulders pushing a cold beer into my hands announcing to everyone the arrival to their re-elected vice-Captain. Everybody cheered and clapped.

"Am I late?" I shouted over the terrible music. I felt at home in one second, forgetting about the empty house I just left.

Gilbert laughed. "You only missed one beer!" He answered before whispering in conspiracy against my ear. "Belle is here. She is stunning. I've got 10pounds on you guys making out."

I smiled widely, uneasy feeling running in my spine. Panic flood as I tightened my hold on the bottle. That was way too soon, what was I suppose to do with her? Was it so hard to understand after all that time she was like my sister? But I did not say anything to Gilbert. I believe in ignoring problem until they go away like any respectable teenager with the fear of responsibility. We ran into Francis. He was having some cherry, fancy cocktails with peach sirup and hugged me without crashing neither his or my drink. Some french skills I believe.

"So I've got exactly 8 new conquêtes. All of them breathtakingly beautiful, obviously," he announced rolling his eyes, checking his watch. "And it's barely 10pm. What about you?"

"6," growled Gilbert letting me go. "But let's talk about it again in 5 minutes."

Francis waved him off shouting as he leaves: "And remember it doesn’t count if you already made out once before!"

I laughed at that stupid competition maybe if I started now I could get past Gilbert, one of the advantages of being the football-almost-captain. My eyes ran over the crowd. I caught something new, it was Feliciano jumping up and down dragging Ludwig on the dance floor.

"The Italians are here?" I said without stopping myself. Francis nodded.

"Feli’s quite an animal party," laughed Francis and I feared the worst. "But we all know you aren’t talking about him."

"Very funny," I hissed drinking my beer again. It was the cheap asian kind, why does no one ever buy Spanish beer?

"This afternoon, they were quite good, right?" Francis said off-hand but he was lying to me and himself. This question was cold stone serious, not "off-hand". He was asking if we had a shot. Were they good enough? Can we win the competition this year? He hided behind his cocktail.

"Lovino managed because he can create game, but he can’t shot to save his life," I said. "I think we just need give a plan and focus to Feliciano. Playing Kick and Run in a new team’s never easy. Even more unfair for the defence." Francis nodded waiting for me to continue. "Feliciano needs confidence in his own game and Lovino confidence in the other players. We can manage. It’ll be fine.”

"And I'll manage you, and your lack of confidence,” smirked Francis. He got his hand on my tie and loosen it.

"Sorry, what?" I asked stepping back.

"Belle thinks you look the best like that," He said, finishing his work.

I rolled my eyes, like she cared how I was dressed. She was so into me I could be wearing my pyjama it would be fine. But even though, it did not help me, I was feeling so inadequate around her. Like we were dancing a candle in hand. It was iddillic but was going to end terribly. Bewitched into putting too much money on a single player. There was way to much hope for perfection about me going out with Belle. We would not survive the first bump. I smiled uneasily at Francis, I was not worried about her perfection, but about mine.

“You know the rule, no relationships between team-mates,” whispered Francis trying not to look anywhere but my face.

“Sure…” I said between my teeth.

“Good. Now, go get her, Don Juan!” smiled Francis. “I’ve got money on you two going out! And Everybody’s dying of the inexistent suspense of your love story."

"You took the bet too." I sighted looking around the room wondering how many people were waiting for me to meet their expectations. How many people gossiping about it? Maybe they were right. Maybe it would be perfect, for everyone.

"Aren't you suppose to give me the big brother's threat of killing me if I hurt her," I said smoothly getting away from the subject.

"She’s my cousin. You’re like my brother," he rolled his eyes as I smiled truly. "And I'll have the talk with her, because she'll break your heart."

"Thanks," I answered sarcastically.

"You aren’t getting worried about it, right?" Francis suddenly asked, like he just glanced into my mind. I was bloody terrified, yeah. I glared, wanting to push him out suddenly worried everyone would know that I am only pretending to be okay with it all. He almost stepped back and I was regretting instantly my glare.

Before Francis could say anything else, Jack jumped on us with shots of whiskey. No one ever says no to a Scottish man proposing whiskey if you want to stay friends. Time passed thinking I saw Belle every five minutes, but it wasn’t her. I was always ready for her to appear at any time and any corner. But the house was so big with the garden and the two floors, maybe if I lucky I won't even see her tonight!

I met Yao thanking him for the party and complained about the beer. It was a bad move.

I saw Li and that blond guy, that I keep on losing the name. Gilbert was talking to then. Well, he was trying. He tiptoed around the blond boy all night and was now laughing stupidly at everything Matthew said. Li was watching everything silently, sipping on his drink not planning to help and quite amused at watching Gilbert humiliate himself.

I elbowed Francis and we made a emergency up to stole Gilbert away, saving him from further embarrassments. Li just in time whispered I should look out for Belle. I glared at him, “Thanks,” I drawled.

All I got in return was "What? I've put a lot on that bet!"

I did not have an answer for that and left.

"Argh! That was so un-awesome!" Gil growled, hiding his face in his hands.

I patted him gently on the back. "It's okay, my friend."

Gilbert was quite rueful and swore he never wanted to talk about it again. Francis ignored him and went in a long discourse about rom-com and the correlation between true love and overriding great difficulties but tequila appeared in front of us.  
Yes, tequila can teleport. Sneaky tequila. It could only be Tequila’s magic abilities or how do you explain being transported from mildly tipsy enjoying your night to dancing shirtless on the dance floor singing along to a song you’ve never heard before?

 

 

* * *

 

 

POV: Lovino Vargas

 

The moment I walked in into the party, I knew I made a mistake.

We were there early, thanks to our nice escort who picked us up on time. It was simple grey car today, no more masquerade. The 30-something police officer did not try to hide his identity and I was practically sure I saw him at the station at some point. I could only wonder if he told the truth to win over our trust or to threaten us. Nonetheless, Feliciano had started been really friendly with him and the officer was actually falling for it, asking about school, friends, football, laughing at some of the jokes. Like Feli said, if he was going to be around, we should at least be friend! Yay!

Sure, I stayed quiet, my arms crossed, glaring at him all the way to Yao's house. I was not going to forget so easily why he was "going to be hanging out around here” meaning breathing down our necks. He was not driving us around with the city council money for the joy of talking with Feli. We were hostage waiting for them to decide what to do with our conditional liberty. And the harshest truth of it all was that it was all my fault. I put my brother and I in this transparent prison all by myself. My skin was itching for 5minutes of freedom again. 5 minutes of them not knowing where I was. 5 minutes of not being afraid they would suddenly barge in and decide otherwise with us. I winced stopping to scratch my skin again. I really need to cut my nails. I started bitting them pensively looking outside, letting the city running away with freedom.

He dropped us just in front of the door. I waved at him smiling with all my teeth as we waited for the door to open.

 

And there I was, in a new prison setting, four walls, unknown people dancing. Music was blurring all the other sounds, songs I've never heard of and that Feliciano loved it. The first hour, I followed Feli around. Then as usual he started to forget about me talking to everyone. It was so usual, I was almost relief we could go back into old patterns. He was right, for one night everything was normal.  
Hours started to pass by, the music was not very diverse. It started getting on my nerves, loud hits, buzzing lights and people shouting. It made me strangely more and more anxious. I found a corner and decide to sponge my anxiety in wine. Mom used to do that and after all I was at a party, people won't worry if I get pissed drunk. It’s what I’m meant to be doing.  
I looked outside again. Maybe I could just step out? Just 5 minutes? I leaned a bit and saw the grey car stationed in front of house at the same place than an hour ago.  
It is still here.

Anyway, it did not matter. I should not try anything. And I was not. I was not going to, I promised myself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

POV: Antonio Carriedo

 

It was around midnight when I came back down. I was laying on a sofa (my shirt miraculously back on?) with some other players when my eyes caught something. Jack was rambling about some football game tactic he just saw on TV but being half drunk made his accent completely in-comprehensive.  
From the corner of the room, I could see someone I have not talked to yet. Lovino was here, standing next to the kitchen in his black jean, black shirt and black hoodie. He seemed quite bored, not at all in a party mood, his eyes fixed on Feliciano, ready to jump in and censor his brother's fun when needed.  
Feliciano had been the attraction of the night so far, engaging in crazy dance moves, laughing and shouting excitable high pitch sounds with his designer clothes. I vaguely remembered him dancing on a table.  
People had just befriended him the moment he walked in, talking about everything and nothing with him. Everybody was looking at him like those social friends, nice, pretty and confident. Everybody wanted to be around him.  
I liked sharing the attention, being able to enjoy the party without having to keep it live was a nice change. Really, even if Francis was frowning at a bit at the beginning but I knew that Gilbert was secretly enjoying it too. It gave him more time to hoover awkwardly around his Canadian crush.  
I looked back at Lovino. People had been mainly ignoring him and he did not seem to care. I took a deep breath and stepped toward him.

"Hey!" I said, he glanced up at me. Glanced up, not glared, that must be good. Mental high five for me. I needed to stop the tequila. I send him one of my charming smile. "Having fun?"

He rolled his eyes not even answering me. In hindsight, it had been a pretty stupid question. He did not seem like he was having fun but was he really going to just ignore me? I glanced at the half empty bottle next to him. He was nursing few glasses of wine already, shouldn’t he be more talkative?  
Also, how cute was it for a soccer player to drink wine at a trashy high school party? It didn’t seem to bother him. He was either not aware of it or he did not care. Possibly he did not care. His lips were already tainted of red.  
He went back to sipping his glass, honey eyes just staring at the mob of people dancing. I stood there in silence, my mouth attempting to find something to say. He banged his glass against the wooden table, making the glass wince as he slide it across the wood. Making a show of it, he took his iPod out then slowly started to untangle his earphones.

I stayed grabbing the earphones out of his hands, “Are you really going to ignore me?" My four shots of tequila were not settling down after Gilbert's competition.

He simply shrugged. Shrugged! Not even trying to grab his earphones back.

"I am the one to be upset here!” I said a bit childishly and he glared at me. I clenched my fists. "You threw tomato at me. I stop my best friends from bullying you and now Gil gets all friendly with you because you help him win few matches. But you won't talk to me? What did I ever do to you? I already apologised."

His eyes widened searching my face for something, sitting back up on the sofa. “Are you?"

"I am, what?" I chided.

"Are you," he repeated a bit unsure now, but still leaning to hear in my answer like if it was some kind of valuable gossip such as football strategy. "Upset?"

I stalled, so surprised to have his whole attention thrown at me. At this point I could not hear the music anymore, it was like being put on the spot light, as I just forgot my lines.

"No! I'm not upset," I said exasperated trying to find a better answer.

He frowned, squinting his eyes moving back. "Okay," he said in complete disbelief. “Whatever.” And he went back to sipping his wine, taking away his attention, leaving me, standing here the music blurring senseless lyrics. He glanced now and then in my direction but not for long enough to give me his full attention. It was becoming awkward and a hand slid on my arm. I froze, my heart picking up a race. I knew with the perfume.

"Antonio~!" Belle shouted draping herself around my arm. "Where were you?"

"Oh, I was… Eh! Around?" I took a quick breath and smiled wider hoping for the distraction to work few seconds.

It worked Belle's cheeks turned to a sweet pink. She looked away. It was not as terrifying as first planned. I was almost happy to see her, happy for salvation from the disastrous discussion with Lovino. I glanced back to him who had barely turned to look at Belle.

She shook my arm, dragging my eyes back to her. "Dance with me!" she ordered, smile brightening with enthusiasm.

I gave up. I passed my arm around her waist dragging her to the dancing area. She giggled, blue eyes sparkling and accentuated by the black eyeliner. Francis said she made a special effort, not wanting to replay the same fiasco that at the swimming pool. She looked mesmerising in that short red dress, dangerously more adult than the swimsuit. I did not had much choice but to go with it.  
And what a terrible thing, I had my football team, I was working on my grades, and now I was getting with the perfect girlfriend. Everyone else in that room wished they could have those things. Belle was on top of being beautiful, terribly funny, intelligent and confident. She had that killing French accent that boys dreamt about. Sometime sexy, but mostly she cared deeply about the people around her. She was perfect, my parents would love her.  
It was perfect. Frankly I just had to stop worrying. Everything was running quite smoothly for once in this universe and I let myself smile dancing away the night with her unaware I was going to settle many bets tonight.

 

 

 


	9. 1st Mistake

 

Antonio looked down, it must be at least three meters of thin air between him and the solid flat ground. This was maybe his second biggest mistake tonight… He didn’t even know how long it was going to be. This was just the start of troubles that Lovino was going to drag Antonio in tonight.  
But for the moment Antonio was focused on the issue at hand, and the emptiness under his feet, making him almost regret his decision to elope the party. His shoes should absolutely not slip from the wood line of the french window, otherwise it would be free fall until the hard ground… Antonio grabbed the metallic bar with too much force, pushing down and stepping a meter closer from the floor. He looked up again to Lovino. He was watching calmly the concrete slab, with some kind of disinterest, no fear on his face.

"Lovi, that was a stupid idea,” trembled Antonio. It wasn’t nice, it wasn’t something he usually did in the middle of the first football team party. “We should go back in.” Deciding it was better to face his mistake than die here and jeopardise his scholarship with a broken leg.

But the second he finished that thought, his hands sweaty and hurting let the metal slipped away and he fell in a loud commotion. Luckily landing on his feet, knees bending, he fell unbalanced against one of the bin in a slow and ridicule motion.  
Antonio stood up smile creeping on his face for surviving that small fall. He was fine, it has not been that high, but God, he was not doing that again. He was shaking from the fall, hands exhausted and painful.

He was going to shout at Lovino for having such stupidly dangerous ideas, but when Antonio looked up only one word came out, "No!"

Lovino did not listen. Obviously he didn’t, he was naturally stubborn, and on the top of that he was presently very drunk. Lovino pushed against the wall and fall just next to him.

"Don't tell me you were scared," mocked Lovino sitting up his eyes shining with adrenaline and probably too much vodka. Outside from shaking hands he was apparently fine to Antonio’s relief.

"What? Taunted the italian. “You wanted out, no?”

Antonio stared disbelieving of his arrogance. "Well, when I sneak out, I don't usually jump out the second floor."

Lovino looked at him for a moment, unconvinced. He pushed on one of the trash to stand.

He probably just assumed that as the popular vice-captain, Antonio would be used to sneak out to parties to what? Go and fetch some more alcohol, cigarettes and drugs? Obviously, Lovino would believe that of Antonio. Everyone believes that.

"Did we have to use the window?" complained Antonio still trying wiping his hands against his jean. The other’s attention though was already set on the next step, getting far away from the house.

"More fun,” teased Lovino. Antonio raised an eyebrow and Lovino turned his head just in time to see it. It was so dangerous, but Antonio was not going to say that. Did Lovino really not think it through? Did he jut not care?

Lovino felt the blame thrown his way and he shrugged. "Maybe would you prefer everyone to see who you leaving without a goodbye? Without one last kiss for your girlfriend?”

Antonio glared at him, trying to intimidate him enough to shut up, to not talk about Belle. At least tried because Lovino was overly occupied by move down the street with cautious.

"I don't want to talk about her." But should he say about "us"? Why did she have to kiss him? Why did she have to change everything? Antonio followed slowly, as Lovino crossed through the park. “Hey! Where are you going?”

Lovino froze, “Home?”

Antonio kept looking around, it was a residential area adjacent to one of the biggest park of the city, mostly calm at this time, but it was a popular stop for young mother and sportive parents at day.

“I thought you lived in the centre,” said Antonio. “It’ll take you at least 30min to walk there.”

“Does it matter to you?” taunted Lovino walked faster across the park, eyes focused on the house and passing cars.

Something wasn’t right, Antonio grabbed him by the arm, “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” hissed Lovino pushing back. “Go home Antonio.”

“Where are you going?”

“Leave me alone!”

“Do you even know the way?!” chided Antonio arms crossed.

“Just. Leave.”

“Are you off to buy drugs?!!”

“Madonna santa! No!” he hissed looking at Antonio in disgust.

“Where are you going then?”

“Just-“

“I can’t let you leave…” explained Antonio not understanding the anger behind Lovino’s eyes.

“Porco cane!” Lovino hissed looking murderous and utterly done coming up closer to Antonio.

“At the risk of being an hypocrite-?!” Lovino didn’t let him finished, grabbed his hand pulled him hurriedly into the forest.

 

* * *

 

 

Antonio POV:

Earlier this night

The music started fading and I ended sitting down with everyone around in the living room. It was around one am people started dying out, tried from dancing and dazed from the alcohol. But someone was especially dying for pasta.

It was insane. Feliciano had the effective skill of getting whatever he wanted by puppy eyeing everyone in the room. It was very potent and soon everyone demanded pasta.

Unluckily, I won the walking a straight line test, people clapping and cheering like another football match. There wasn’t much of a competition with Gilbert as the biggest challenger, and he had tripped landing on his face. He ended up with a bloody nose and a fascinating speech on how the floor betrayed him. Rest assured he was more than okay, some blond guy rushed to his help succeeding into shutting up the german student. Francis held me back with a stupid grin. It was quite amusing to see Gilbert, wide loving eyes, frozen in silence as Matthew handed him tissues and fret over him muttering something about hockey.  
Anyway, as the less drunk of the group, I was send to cook pasta, not allowed to enjoy that peaceful silence gifted to us by the Canadian. Belle asked if I wanted help, I said no and hurried away unable to look her in the eyes. On one hand I didn’t want to cook nor eat pasta. On the other, it was relief to finally have few minutes apart from Belle. I didn’t even know why I felt like this.

I walked in the long quiet kitchen, previously trashed by the student. I thought I was alone, adjusting my shirt and combing my hair with my fingers. I was looking amazing, grinning and winking at my reflexion on the oven window when I noticed Lovino sat on the counter. Ever so slightly stunned, he looked very confused, his glass wine frozen against his lips as if he was going to take a sip before I walked in.

"Hey,” I greeted smiling as large as possible to hide the embarrassment. “You okay?” I said trying to be polite and casual. I crunched down opening drawers looking for a pot or anything to use as a distraction.

He didn’t answer, so I looked up. His amber eyes locked on his glass, he was definitely holding back a smile. He was failing, he glanced at me unable to help himself chuckling. My heart jumped and I knocked my head on the open drawer like an idiot, blinking few times. He seemed even more amused, jumping down the counter to grab the bottle of wine he apparently was working on empty.

“You might want to slow down on the alcohol if you’re really planning cook,” he suggested quietly as he topped up his glass.

“What about you?” I taunted.

“I haven’t banged my head against the counter yet,” the italian smirked. His cheeks were so flushed, he was probably more than a bit tipsy by now. He went back to his spot, sitting back down his interest gone again.

Well, I went back to my search of pots and pasta. There was many things but nothing seemed fit.

“What are you making?” he asked eyes glancing quickly at me before going back to his wine’s study. I smiled back wondering if drunk Lovino was actually trying to make conversation? Maybe. It was worth taking the chance.

“Well,” I said passing my hand in my hair in an attempt not too look awkward. “I’m making pasta."

Lovino chuckled again, slightly more ironically. "I imagine Feliciano has nothing to do with it?” He bit his lips trying to stop another smile. His eyes a little more lighted up than usual. And I knew I was falling fast.

“He does have a way to get what he wants,” I laughed.

"Tell me about it…” He drawled swinging his legs a little. "Imagine having him at home."

I chuckled at the idea, moving to fill the pot with water. I started in the stove in silence.

"About earlier,” started Lovino. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He managed a glance at me before occupying himself with finding the bottom of his glass.

Was he apologising? And having no filter I said, “Are you apologising?”

“No.” It didn’t sound convincing. “But since we’re going be playing together I’d better not ignore you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, was he proposing a truce?

“I mean, you’re playing attack, I’m midfielder, it makes sense…” added Lovino glancing at the room.

“Does that mean we get to be friend, now?” I teased, stopping a moment from stirring the pasta. “We’ll get to hang out after school, know all of each others secrets and finally focus our efforts to annoy the tennis team!”

He looked up, confused, stopped for a moment in his attempt to pour more Bordeaux into his glass. His fingers clenching on the black bottle threatening to let it go as he put it back down in a rush. His whole focus was on me.  
Maybe I shouldn’t have joked about it? Maybe I assumed to much of it? My confidence was steaming away. He was lost in his thoughts, golden eyes fixed on me and I wanted to explode, say something, do something. I was going to step closer when someone walked in, taking away Lovino's attention away. Everything whirled back down and the world was so frustratingly bland.

"Come on, Lovi!" chided his brother, giggling. “Don't have such trust issues, make a friend! You can even apology."

"Shut the fuck up, Feli,” Growled Lovino adding something in Italian before turning to me. "You ain't getting an apology from me. Your friends are pervy bastards and I want nothing to do with them.”

I chuckled reminded of our nickname around the school, bad touch trio. It wouldn’t be too hard to guess that he heard about some of the trio not most glorious moments. And god, there was a few.

“He is a little possessive," explained Feliciano ignoring his brother patting Antonio’s shoulder. “That's how you know he likes you.”

My eyes trailed back to the other italian who was loudly swearing in his native language to his brother. Feliciano laughed again and left with a bottle bottle of vodka and a “Good luck!”

I could not help but smile. Lovino had turned so red.

"What's wrong, bastard?" he asked noticing my stare.

"Nothing,” I smiled.

We talked for a bit, he was born in Roma, living with his grandfather or uncle I did not quite catch that. He glared as he said mentioned "Nonno,” his eyes locked on his glass. So I changed subject. He smiled few times, and shouted when I wondered if 20minutes was enough for pasta.

"Don't you ever cook?" he chided pushing me away from the stove.

It was apparently “unacceptable” and “uneatable.” A complete disaster. It needs to be “aldente” not, and I quoted, like "boiled potatoes.” He seems strongly opposed to "boiled potatoes" pronouncing their name with so much disgust as if the bare mention of it was insulting his family.  
So we made some pasta again, he rolled up his black shirt sleeves shushing me away. The shirt appeared to be from an Italian designer and probably was from what Feliciano had been ranting about earlier. “No one should be allowed to make suits but Italians.”  
There was some milky bandage around his forearm, that made me wonder why his skin was so ghostly pale. Summer just finished, all the student were still hoovering between lightly toasted and grilled to the bone after interminable football matches under the burning sun of summer. But not him. Neither his brother. What did they do all summer? Didn't they play football?  
I was going to ask but he inquired about the whereabout of the "pasta bowls.”

What the bloody hell was that? He was opened some weird cupboard full of chopsticks, wooden baskets, bowls, cake moulds but "pasta bowls” were nowhere to be found.

We talked football. He was quite adamant, his light accent slipping back to a strong Italian rolling the "r"s and giving inconstant intonations to the words when it concerned italian teams. It was quite entertaining, we didn’t see the time pass.  
He was much more fun than sober. Maybe we should keep him consistently a bit tipsy?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The pasta had been ready for a while when Antonio’s friends arrived. And that was enough for him forget about Lovino.  
The Italian glanced at the bottle, grabbing it, securing his fingers around it tight. Exactly like Belle's hand on Antonio's arm now.  
Antonio did not even look back, like a switch it was like Lovino just disappeared. And he realised, crashing back down into reality, that was probably for the best. He almost fucked up a few times talking like that to someone who did not know.

This was depressing and Lovino guessed that he was apparently getting sober again as this nagging feeling of constant dread was coming back. Great.

"Let's play a game!" someone shouted and it was like the best thing anyone ever thought of. The crowd was delirious. And Lovino just rolled his eyes. Perfect, he just had to disappeared upstairs quietly, maybe in the general enthusiasm he could manage to-

"Fratello! Play with us!" called out Feliciano.

Lovino was going to ignore it, but then saw Ludwig just next to Feliciano. Too close. Too close for Lovino's taste, too happy to listen, staring like if Feli was holding the 2006 Football World Cup trophy in his hand. Or whichever one the German won… if they ever won any… (Yes, Lovino was still in denial) So you know, now he had to stay, just to make sure Ludwig was not getting any closer.

One thing bringing the other, Lovino was now part of the bottle turning, truth or dare, stupidly cliché game. Instead of crying about the fact that he could be at home quietly enjoying- wait no, he could not be home. Because his home were kilometres away. Great. Fucking great. Lovino took a swing of the bottle again. Maybe he should start looking for something stronger, it's not like there is anything else he could do now, right? That's for sure, there was absolutely nothing he could do, nothing else they can except him to do than to be utterly drunk.

"Fratello!" shouted Feli, elbowing him.

"What?"

“Matthew picked you!”

"What?"

"If he isn’t paying attention, he isn’t playing,” grumbled Gilbert.

"He is!" said Feliciano turning back to his brother pleading him to agree.

"So… What do I need to do then?" cooperated Lovino like an hostage with a gun against his head unsure if it was loaded or no. Without meaning it, he glanced up at Antonio. If someone else was dealing with an hostage situation, it was him. He looked like he was going to sit an exam in the next three minutes.

"Drink that!” said the blond guy with round glasses. Lovino swore he had seen him somewhere.

The italian grabbed the glass, looking inside suspiciously. Everyone was watching him too, exactly like he was doing with the glass, trying to see, trying to guess what was going to happen.

But then Feliciano laughed, smiling like he never does any more and Lovino just could not throw the glass on the floor and leave. He breathed in, and down it.

It was, well, disgusting but at least he wasn’t going to remember much after that one.

 

On the contrary, he did remember and quite clearly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The bottle finally turned to Belle, because apparently that was what this was all about. Antonio heard Elizabeth giggled, jumping up and down exactly like a child on christmas.

"So Belle," she laughed barely able to talk.

Belle was blushing, "No don't!" But really, there was not venom, no real pleading, maybe just a on the moment embarrassment realising of what was going to happen.

"I dare you to kiss," Elisabeth giggled. "the person you've been dying to kiss the whole night. And don't cheat, everybody knows who it is!”

At that “everybody” chuckled, whistled and turned at Antonio. He felt utterly mortified. It wasn’t that he was startle to be the centre of the attention but this wasn’t something he was looking forward to. He glanced at Francis who winked back, while Gilbert was clapping and cheering like he was watching a football game. As if finally his team was going to goal.

And the worst was yet to come. Belle, who was so damn beautiful that night, looked up to him and even surrounded by all these savages, she still was perfect.

She turned to her friend, her small hands hiding part of her mouth. "Come on Beth! Chose another bet!" she said giggling too.

Elisabeth did not even answer that fake request. Belle must have been aware of the plan before the game even started. It was a set up.

But anyhow, she turned to Antonio looking innocent.

"I don't want our first kiss to be like that,” he said trying to advert the crisis.

"We’re tired of waiting for the inevitable!" someone shouted.

Antonio sighted. “Belle- " and she kissed him.

Antonio pushed her away, and everyone gasped. He hated the way she looked at him and he panic. He decided, right there that she was right, that they must be right. He grabbed her hand and glanced at Francis quickly who was shocked mostly but warning him to behave with a glare. He couldn’t make such drama now, not with the child of the school board member. It would destroy his reputation, Belle's too. She didn’t deserve that.

"Sorry, I jumped," he whispered to her, his other hand pulling some of her hair behind her ear. "Can I kiss you again?"

She blushed, relieved not to be rejected in front of everyone, but also completely run over by her emotions. She smiled with such candice and nodded shyly. She looked down. "Yeah, sure."

And he did again, like sealing his fate with hers. It wasn’t bad really, she was perfect. Everybody around them whistled, beamed at the new couple and laughed. Some money was exchanged. And as the seconds passed like hours, Antonio became more and more focused with the people around, almost forgetting what he was meant to be doing. Only when she moved closer, throwing her arms around his neck, Antonio realised, breaking the kiss away.

"Let's stop here," he said smiling one of his special bullshit smile to her and everyone. She beamed.

"You’re too nice! What's wrong with you~” she chided trying to sound playful. "I can’t believe it took this long!”

Antonio did not move, nor answered, preferring that numbness to the anger building into him. He knew it was going to happen. So are they really together now? What was his problem? Why wasn't he happy? He closed his fists.

"Don't tell me you are going to make me wait until we are married to do anything else!" she said with a pout, and everybody laughed. She was only teasing him.

"I'm so happy for you," coed Elizabeth, Belle tugging Belle away. And it should not have been a relief.

"Don't worry, I'm going to organised the best dates,” She continued still playful, grabbing his hand.

Francis was livid, astonished maybe. He mouthed: why didn’t you say?

Say what?

Francis looked at him like it was evident. Well it wasn’t. Maybe it was going to be fine! Maybe that is what he wanted. Maybe she was going to make it work! At worst, he could let her down nicely in a few weeks.

Everything was fine.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The game was over soon after that little scene.

It’s been a while now and for the first time now Antonio started noticing the mess the house was in as he walked around. It wasn’t just the kitchen, everything had been touched, misplaced, by now. Technically he was looking for his phone, that was what he said to Belle.

He waved at Elizabeth walking passed with water jug and plastic cups. “I’m looking for my phone!” he shouted.

It was on the counter downstairs, but they had too much alcohol in their system to take any decision and she kept on pushing, and cuddling closer. Antonio knew he had to get away.

Anyway, it’s not like he could concentrate on the story she was on about. Her holiday and this spanish city, she liked for whatever reason, she retold in that unsubtle way to get him to invite her there. Because maybe he had a house close by? Surely he had the money.

She kissed him, once, during a game. He had let the alcohol decide while all logic was locked out. And now he had a girlfriend and she just kept talking cuddling with him on the sofa. That’s when he ran away.

He passed by the dinning room. Feliciano was still alive, burning low, like a calm fire now rounding some of his new friends trading secrets and answering existential questions. Gilbert was dozing off next to Matthew while he and Francis were both invested in Feli’s story. Ludwig was there too, he would usually be reasonably gone home by now, but he was here, drinking each of Feliciano's words instead of the cheap alcohol and that awful Chinese beer.  
On the sofa there were the ones with the most stamina like Ivan or the ones that believed so, mostly the British. Jack was laying on the floor, rambling drunkly at an unconscious Arthur and incoherent Lee. Somehow they still managed to disagree.

He walked up the stairs, and there was a few door. To just have five minutes of peace. Five minutes to run away. He opened the last one to hide for a bit, clearing his head. No one would go upstairs, unless they were drunk and if they are, they would crash in the first bedrooms available, so the one at the very end of the corridor was the safest.

The moment Antonio closed the door behind him, he realised his error of judgement. A small light was turned on and Lovino was laying on the bed, sound asleep, spread out on the bedsheets.

Antonio froze and was going to walk out because, duh, he was not going to watch people sleep. It's weird.

But, he did stand awkwardly few seconds, maybe few minutes. The boy’s lips were half open still stained of red, funnily kind of the same shade of Belle's lipstick. They were different still, Belle's were much more curved, more rich, sweet, not bitten and chapped. While Belle had nothing to be jealous about, all could Antonio think about was the smile they did in the kitchen. Antonio's eyes went back to his sickly white skin. It was nothing compared to Belle’s sun kissed tone and rosy blush as she smiled lovingly. But then again he couldn’t forget Lovino laughter or adorable shade of tomato red he turned in back in the kitchen.  
He felt terrible not to be able to keep it on, his smile, his laugh, his blush. Like it was something he should be guilty about. He should be able to do something, to reach out.  
It could be so easy. Lovino was laying here, on the terrible orange coloured sheets, Antonio could wake him up and try again. Try?  
What?  
That was stupid.  
Antonio swore he has drunk too much, shaking his head. Lovino was nothing, bruised and asocial. Why was he even comparing him to Belle? Why was he hiding here letting Belle alone? Why did he just want to stay here-

Lovino opened an eye. “Are you going to leave or am I going to have to keep pretending for another hour?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fuck. Antonio couldn’t remember how to breath. “Sorry,” he said in the midst of walking away.

Lovino finally succeed to sat up, after few misses, too much alcohol. His hair tossed all around his head like a palm tree, making large curves in every direction. It was quite hilarious.

“Trying to hide?" Lovino asked again with a big smug smile on his lips.

Antonio nodded mutely trying to get his classic stupid smile on, to hide the monstrous embarrassment shallowing him. His hand going for the handle.

"From who?" he asked, rubbing his eyes adding quietly, making conversation.

"Everyone I guess," Antonio said uneasily. Lovino stared trying to pat down his unruly hair with one hand, the other searching for a forsaken bottle of vodka. Antonio grabbed it first putting it away. "What about you?"

He shrugged, "Drinking myself into oblivion mostly."

Antonio looked around the room. It must have been Lee's room, with posters of Chinese drama and football stars. There was something wrong with the window some sheet falling from it. Antonio walked up to it.

"Don't!" Lovino shouted suddenly up and ready to tackle him if only he was walk a little be straighter.

Antonio stepped back. "Are you trying to jump out the window?" he asked in astonishment and slightly amused.

"I am not." He assured him with such conviction, it almost worked.

“Really?”

He shrugged. “I just want to get out. Why should you care?"

"Why not take the door?"

"It's not fun," smirked Lovino and Antonio was trying to not be too distracted by it. “My brother would make a scene…”

“Why the hurry though?” teased Antonio. “You were just fine waiting here.”

A flash of fear crossed his face, Lovino stepped back. "Why not?" he taunted. “This party sucks.”

“To be fair, I am not particularly enjoying this party neither,” Antonio plainly said looking out the window again. It was like two floors down and directly above one of the back road. “I could use some stupid exit plan.”

“You seemed to have fun earlier, why the change of heart?” Lovino asked crossed arms.

"What about you? Why are you even here?” He fired back not wanting to answer, he knew any answer would be a lie as there was no truth, he had no idea why he wished he could be home. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with us.”

"I've got an tenacious brother.”

Antonio accepted that with deference.

“What’s your torment then?” Lovino chided cornering Antonio.

The spanish student could feel the other’s scrutiny and something told him that the italian would know if he lied, and maybe Antonio was not ready to lose that tiny friendship. It was ridicule to think that such a white lie would matter.

"I'm vice captain, I needed to come,” he said still looking out of the window. “But now I just really want to go home without making a scene.”

Silence fell back, Lovino’s eyes moving back and forth from the clock to the window. Antonio need to leave and let him be. Or maybe he could too use some backdoor to run away from this party. Wouldn’t hurt too much, everyone was dozing off drunk, Antonio could say he found his phone realised it was late, said goodbye and went home. Nobody would really be able to know if he was lying. He would have time to clear his head, take a shower before having to answer anymore question concerning Belle and his existential doubts. “Should we try then?" Antonio asked.

“What?! No," scoffed Lovino. "You’re not coming."

"I'm not letting you do a stupid thing alone." He said in a cold sober tone, the one he use on the pitch when he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea but the only thing they had at the moment. And it was the case, this was his way out. There was no space discussion. “I’m you’re vice-captain now, I just can’t let you.”

Lovino looked back and forth between the window and him, a bit torn.

"Fine, whatever,” gave up Lovino not wanting to fight any longer. “Hope you’re not scared of heights.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for the Kudos!!! Hope you enjoyed that chapter!


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